


Venom

by daisywrites



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Bikers, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, M/M, light fiddleauthor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5842057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisywrites/pseuds/daisywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stanley Pines smashes into Jimmy Snakes, he instantly falls for the guy. And when Jimmy and Stan begin hanging out more, Ford and Fidds notice some major changes in Stanley's attitude as Stanley notices some changes in Jimmy's. Is Jimmy as great as Stanley thinks he is?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silver Lining

**Author's Note:**

> Because we all need more JimStan in our lives! AU in which Ford went to college, Stanley just kind of bummed around before Ford finally had enough and had his brother move in with him. Fidds is there too, he and Ford started dating in college/are lab partners.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Alex Hirsch, as does the show Gravity Falls

Stanley Pines sighed as he slumped into a bar stool, rubbing his temples as he mumbled that he was still thinking about what he was getting to drink. He had a long, long day, and really just wanted to get so drunk he’d forget all about it.

He had been trying and trying to get himself some money – even though Ford said otherwise, the man needed help paying his bills and mortgage. And it wasn’t helping him taking care of Stanley like a child. He wanted – no, needed – to contribute somehow. That’s what drove him to take up every job he could find, no matter how grungy or degrading it was. Every day just seemed to come with a new all-time low, and a new memory of a failed, embarrassing job. 

“Beer,” Stanley grunted when the bartender raised an impatient eyebrow at him. Yeesh, this bar sucked. It reeked of smoke, and it was really making him itch for a cigarette. The bar and the stool he was sitting on were sticky with God-knows-what…and he could hardly see past all this damn smoke…man, did he want a cigarette…

Behind him, he could hear a biker group laughing and slamming their hands against their tables, swearing every other word and puffing out smoke every time they opened their mouths. He had noticed them when he walked in – all leather-jacket wearing punks, saving a big seat in the middle for one of their buddies. Stanley couldn’t help but feel stabbed with jealousy when he saw them. At least they belonged somewhere. He didn’t even really think he fit in with his own twin brother anymore.

Ford was on to bigger and better things, and honestly, Stan felt like he was holding him back. It’s not like Ford would kick him out, not when he’s homeless and pathetic and all. He probably thinks he owes it to him to take care of him like he’s a sick puppy or a baby or something, because he never even complains about Stanley’s loafing. But Stanley had had it – helping out Ford would prove he’s no pathetic loafer, and it would prove he can contribute, that he’s actually worth something. Everyone was always wrong about him, he was worth something, he fit in somewhere—

“Hey, buddy, you’re cryin’ all over my bar.” The bartender snapped him away from his thoughts, and Stan’s face lit up red as he touched his hand to his cheek. Sure enough, he was crying. Pathetic. He was suddenly filled with anger and self-hate as he glowered at the bartender.

Stan slammed up from his spot at the bar, rubbing at his eyes as he began walking to the bathroom. Who was this guy to judge him? At least he wasn’t the one working for tips in this sleazefest! Er…actually, he’d kill for a job that tipped…but at least he wasn’t working for any right now! At least he—

Stan’s train of thought flew out the window once more as he smashed face-first into something, letting out a surprised yelp as he toppled backwards. What in the—?

“Whoa, there, baby doll.”

A pair of strong, big hands stopped Stan from falling to the ground, and they steadied him. He had to blink away the shock before looking up to see who he knocked into, and who had the nerve to call him ‘baby doll.’ He really couldn’t avoid a fight, could he?

But any fight was caught in his throat as he looked at the man in front of him. A red bandana was tied around his long blonde hair, which matched his eyebrows, sideburns, and bushy mustache. His chin was strong, as were his cheekbones, and his hands, which were still on Stan’s arms. He was wearing a ripped leather jacket, muscles very much visible even through the leather, and black shades hiding his eyes.

_Wow._

Stanley blinked, unable to look away from the man. His presence alone demanded attention, and his hands on Stan’s arms already had his cheeks flushing red and mind a million miles away. Stan couldn’t help but stare in almost awe at the other man, and he hoped he actually wasn’t drooling, because he sure felt like he was.

The biker smiled, tipping his sunglasses up on his head before raising an eyebrow at Stan.

“You alright there, doll?” he asked coolly, grip on Stan’s arms loosening but not letting go.

“I—uh—y-yeah, I’m f-fine,” Stan stuttered out, all breath getting knocked out of him at the sound of the man’s voice. The biker’s lips quirked, and Stan suddenly felt very self-aware as the man looked him over. He flashed back to the reason why he had left the bar, and embarrassment flooded his insides. Did this guy see him crying? Did he still have tear-stains on his face? All he knew was, he needed to get out of there.

“I-I, um, yeah. T-Thanks, sorry for, ah, knocking into you.” Stan tried to control his jittery nerves, flashing the biker a nervous, almost shy smile before slipping out of his grasp and walking towards the bathroom. He felt eyes on him the entire way there, and he thanked his wobbly legs for not giving out until he actually was behind the closed door of the bathroom.

He let out a shaky breath, leaning on the sink from support. What kind of sappy cliché was this, the attractive guy taking his breath away? Ugh, he needs that beer.

Stan made his way back to the bar after several minutes of mental prep, without seeing the biker, to his disappointment. He sat back down at his stool, suddenly overcome all over again with his overwhelming problems as he did so. When he was with that biker for only a few minutes, he had almost forgotten. The bartender raised a judgmental eyebrow for about the billionth time that night, causing Stan to glare wickedly.

“Where’s my beer?” He snarled, fingernails digging into his thighs angrily, tears pricking his eyes all over again as he felt so worthless and pathetic. The bartender looked at him skeptically before placing a beer in front of him, then left Stan to blubber in peace.

It didn’t take Stan long to down a couple beers, and the buzz alcohol usually had wasn’t setting in tonight, to his chagrin. He really just wanted to forget all his troubles, but tonight, they were too bothersome to forget. He really just wised he was home on the couch, curled up in a blanket as he and his brother watched crappy monster movies. Of course, he’d be on Ford’s couch, in Ford’s house, watching Ford’s movie under Ford’s blanket…

Stan finally decided to pay for his drinks and get out of there. Drinking wasn’t helping, hell, maybe it was even making him feel worse. Stan got up, grumbling about ineffective booze, as he rubbed his hands that got sticky from the bar on his jeans.

“Hey, buddy. You gotta pay for those drinks,” the bartender said sternly.

“Oh. Right,” Stan muttered with an eye roll, jamming a hand into his pocket to fish around for his wallet. He opened it up, bartender watching, and put his hand inside to pull out of the money. Stan blinked a couple of times, stomach dropping to his feet, as he realized he hadn’t gotten paid this week.

“Where’s my money?” The bartender demanded, obviously getting angry, “I’ve served your cryin’ ass all night, I deserve more than I’m askin’ from ya, so pay up!”

Stan felt his temper flare, a wicked scowl marring his features. Today was a rough day, and he was too upset and too tired to take any of this crap from a guy who served drinks for a living. So he slammed his empty wallet on the counter, leaning closer to the bartender.

“What’re you gonna do if I don’t?” He hissed, cocking an eyebrow. The bartender growled furiously, fist reeling back as Stan held his own fist up, ready in a fighting stance.

One minute a fist was flying at him, and the next, the impact never came. Stan saw the bartender’s shocked expression, and his eyes traveled to the strong hand that had stopped the fist mere inches from his face. A firm hand landed on Stanley’s shoulder and squeezed, causing his heart to pound in his chest and cheeks to flush red.

“Are we gonna have a problem here?” The biker from earlier asked, an edge to his smooth voice as he glared at the bartender.

“O-oh, nonono, there’s no p-problem,” the bartender instantly sputtered, stepping back with arms raised in defeat. The biker raised an eyebrow at him, motioning for him to get out of here, and the other man instantly scurried away.

Stan couldn’t help but feel even more pathetic than he had when he first walked in here. Not only was he a mooch, but now he couldn’t even fight his own battles. He probably wouldn’t have been able to take the bartender on, in all honesty. His eyes dropped to the ground, gut twisting, as the biker shifted him to face him.

“Hey. You alright, doll?” He asked, big hand coming out to tilt Stan’s chin upwards. Stan was quiet for a few seconds, cheeks red and heart thumping wildly in his chest.

“I could’ve fought him, you know.” He added quietly, “…You didn’t have to do that.” His solemn eyes met the biker’s, and the other man smiled at this, a genuine smile that made butterflies explode through Stan’s stomach.

“I know,” he replied. “You can sure as hell smash into someone, and you could’ve just as easy taken down that guy.” Stan’s eyebrows rose at the statement, not expecting a compliment in response.

“O-oh. Well…why’d you do it then?” he asked softly.

“Because if you got into a fight, you would’ve gotten kicked out of the bar,” the biker said simply. Stan’s eyebrows knitted in confusion, because he really wasn’t sure where this guy was going with this.

“S-so why would—”

“And then I wouldn’t have gotten to see you again.” The biker smiled, voice low, “As it turns out, I like you, doll.” Stanley’s eyebrows shot up and his cheeks turned red.

“Really?” he squeaked, much more high-pitched than he intended.

“Really,” the biker replied. “Why don’t you come out to the club tomorrow with me and my gang. I’ll buy the drinks.” The way he said it, it seemed like more of a demand than a question, which only made Stan’s mind whirl more. Because this guy actually wanted to spend time with him, and he said he actually _liked_ him!

“O-okay,” Stan smiled almost giddily, cheeks pink. “That sounds like it’ll be a good time.”

“It will be,” the biker grinned, tingles shooting throughout Stan’s body. The biker held out his leather-gloved hand, grinning at Stan.

“The name’s Jimmy. Jimmy Snakes.”

_Hot Belgian waffles, even his name is awesome._ Stan felt like he had been winded by a football as the other man introduced himself, and he slowly and a bit too shakily curled his fingers around Jimmy’s to shake his hand hello.

“Stanley Pines,” he said with a grin, which only made the biker smile more. He pulled something out of one of the pockets in his leather jacket, eyes never leaving Stan’s as he folded the item in Stan’s hand.

“See ya tomorrow, baby doll. Wear something formal,” he purred, winking at Stan in a way that had him shivering in delight, hand sliding away from his before he turned and walked away. Stan watched him go in a trance until Jimmy was out the door, heart still beating wildly in his chest.

He looked down at his hand to see a wad of money in his palm. He nearly choked on his own spit, because _yeesh_ , that would be more than enough to pay for his drinks. He instantly pocked the money before noticing a piece of paper mixed in. It was Jimmy’s card, which said his phone number on it.

Stan smiled, turning the card over in his hands. Maybe today wasn’t such a bad day, after all.


	2. Too Good To Be True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the bookmarks and kudos! 
> 
> Alternate title for this chapter is "Fluff Before the Storm" o_o

Stan reached the club where Jimmy wanted to meet him at eight o’clock sharp, brain short-circuting as nerves took over his body. Not only was he about to walk into a club that was scarier than the downtown job he worked last week, but he was spending an entire night with Jimmy Snakes. Man, he still can’t get over how cool that name is…

Everything about Jimmy was cool though! The way he had Stan wrapped around his finger with just a couple of words was awe-inspiring. The way one look would have Stan’s heart going wild was completely insane. And the way he had Stan feeling and acting was like nothing he had ever experienced before! He wasn’t sure if he loved it or was scared of it. Nobody had ever had him such a nervous, adoring mess.

Holy Moses, would he even be able to last this date? Was this even a date? 

Stan tugged at his bow tie, which suddenly seemed to be strangling him, as he walked in through the front doors of the club. He was instantly hit with the overwhelming smell of cigar smoke, cologne, and gasoline, and it took a lot of strength to stop himself from doubling over in a coughing fit. He had to rub the smoke away from his eyes to get a better look at the place, and when he did, his jaw slightly dropped.

This place was definitely bigger than any biker bar he’d ever been to before. It was huge, filled to the brim with people and flashing neon signs in all directions. Bikes hung from the ceiling, the walls were stocked with booze, and there were pool tables and cases filled with cigarettes at every turn. This must be fancy for bikers or something, because everyone seemed to be dressed nice (although they were still decked out in spikes and leather). Even Jimmy’s _hangout_ was amazingly intimidating.

Stan paled at the thought of having to find Jimmy in this sea of people, but he knew it wouldn’t be a huge problem. Jimmy was the only one that stood out so much to him, but finding where he was would pose as an issue.

“Baby doll! Hey!”

Stan whirled around, and it only took him a second to see through the crowd and spot Jimmy. He was sitting at a big booth by the wall, right in the middle of his gang with a cigar lolling out the side of his mouth. Stan had to blink a couple of times, unsure whether his eyes were bleary from seeing Jimmy or from the smoke in the air around him. He wondered if he would ever see Jimmy without getting his breath taken away, because so far, it didn’t seem like he ever would.

Stan made his way over to the table, nearly falling over about six times as his legs decided to stop working again. It took him much more effort than it should’ve to reach Jimmy’s table, where all his biker friends were staring at him expectantly, as if he were some sort of big deal or something. They couldn’t have been further from the truth on that one…

“H-hey,” Stan rubbed the back of his neck, hoping he didn’t sound so nervous. Jimmy grinned hello at him, taking a puff on his cigar as he turned to his friends.

“This is the guy I was telling you guys about,” Jimmy said to the bikers on both sides of him. “He’s hanging with us tonight.”

If the other bikers didn’t want Stan hanging out with them, they certainly weren’t going to put up a fight about it. When Jimmy nudged the guy next to him and grunted for him to move, Stan had never seen anyone move faster. The three guys on the one side of Jimmy all got out of the booth, then looked to Stan. He paled, brain not working. What was he supposed to do? Stan’s eyes landed on the now-empty spot next to Jimmy, who raised an eyebrow with a smirk and patted the seat next to him.

“O-oh. Right. Okay,” Stan laughed, cheeks pink, before sliding into the booth. He made sure to sit a safe distance from Jimmy, one that wasn’t too far but one that wasn’t too close either. He wasn’t exactly sure how Jimmy felt about him, and the guy probably wasn’t going to want to be even remotely affectionate in front of his friends—

Stan’s eyes widened, jaw slightly dropped as Jimmy wrapped a strong arm around him and pulled him tightly next to him. Stan’s mind completely shut down, heart pounding, because he was practically in the guy’s _lap_ , and he could smell Jimmy’s scent of smoke and icy cologne and leather. If this was the first ten minutes of this…whatever this was…Stan couldn’t help but nervously and excitedly look forward to the rest of it.

And the rest of the night…it definitely was like no other night Stan had ever had before.

Jimmy easily fell into conversation with his friends, and he made sure to include Stan as well. His friends didn’t seem to care that Stan wasn’t even close to a biker. They laughed with him, talked to him, and made him feel…really welcome. And this was really new to Stan, because he had never really had any friends…or people who tolerated his presence before, besides Ford and Fidds. When he first walked into this club and saw Jimmy’s friends, their appearances alone had nearly sent him back home to get his brass knuckles for just in case.

Of course, it was hard to converse or even think as Jimmy rested his chin on top of Stan’s head, big hands firmly on his waist as Stan was very much in his lap now. Stan spent the entire time in the booth with his heart pounding, cheeks flushed and a goofy, excited grin on his face.   
“Hey, baby doll, do ya want a cigar?” Jimmy murmured and squeezed his waist as his friends absently chattered around them.

“Yeah, sure,” Stan said easily. He was pretty sure he had perfected sounding not so nervous, even if he really…r-really…

Jimmy plucked the cigar out of his mouth, and the next thing Stan knew, it was in his own mouth. He completely stopped breathing, and any masking of his nervousness went straight out the window as he took a drag off of Jimmy’s cigar. And Jimmy did little things like that all night, grinning against his ear or placing his hand on top of Stan's or tracing patterns on his waist. And every little thing Jimmy did, it drove Stan off the wall. 

_Hot Belgian waffles._

Stan had no idea what time it was when they had to leave the club because it was closing, but it had to have been pretty late. In all honesty, he had completely lost track of time. He still felt high off all the fun he had had, plus the way Jimmy had been treating him the whole night. Stan wasn’t sure if Jimmy was just mindlessly flirting with him or not, but he sure knew where he stood with his feelings for Jimmy.

“Stan!” Stan yelped as he was tackled by the six other bikers, all slapping him on the back and messing up his hair. He began internally panicking, because they were attacking him or something, right? He’d never be able to fight all these guys, they’d completely destroy him! He—

“You come back and hang with us any night, you hear?” One of them grinned, punching him in the arm. Stan froze, eyes wide as he looked and noticed all the bikers grinning at him. It slowly dawned on them that they weren’t attacking him…they were letting him know they liked him, that he was welcome to come back! 

“That’d be great! Don’t think I’m going easy on poker!” he nudged the guy back with a huge grin, and everyone laughed. A warm feeling spread throughout Stan‘s chest as he looked to see Jimmy grinning a toothy grin at him, all of his friends wishing him happy goodbyes. For the first time ever, Stan actually fit in.

Stan wasn’t sure how to wish Jimmy goodbye, but he definitely wasn’t expecting an arm around his shoulder escorting him outside. The cold night air hit him, causing him to shiver a bit. Neither man said anything as he blindly let Jimmy lead him wherever he wanted to go.

“Get on, doll. We’re going for a ride.” Jimmy winked at him as he mounted his motorcycle, making room for Stan to get on the back. Stan’s face heated up at not only what Jimmy said, and the mental images that followed, but the fact that he’d be riding on a motorcycle (he had bad past motorcycle experiences, one of which he was scared stiff and clinging to the driver) and alone with Jimmy for the first time all night.

“Alright, sure,” Stan smirked as he got on the back of the motorcycle, and Jimmy hummed as a pleased response. Really, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to say no to Jimmy, which was a pretty powerful and potentially dangerous thing. He wondered if Jimmy really knew how much power he had over him, and only after a couple of days…

Jimmy revved the engine, flicking his sunglasses downward in a way that had a chill going up Stan’s spine and butterflies going wild in his stomach. He can’t screw up riding a motorcycle, can he? He had made it through the night without embarrassing himself too much, and he hoped he could keep it that way.

Luckily, getting on the back of the motorcycle was a synch. The hard part would be keeping his heart from exploding as he hung on to Jimmy. He slowly curled his arms around Jimmy’s middle, who he could tell was grinning ear-to-ear, and the man took off down the road.

The whole way home the two laughed and drove as fast as the bike would take them, and at their speed, it didn’t take long for them to get back to the Shack.

The two men walked in a contented silence down the dirt path of the Mystery Shack, Jimmy’s shoulder occasionally brushing against Stan’s as the soft dirt crunched underneath their feet. Being so close to Jimmy – as he had been the entire night – had Stan’s heart beating so loudly that the was beginning to get afraid Jimmy could hear it too.

Stan was trying to keep his excitement about how well the night was going inside, but _yeesh_ , tonight was the best night of his life! He actually felt accepted, like he was an actual person, not a screw-up or a mooch or a worthless good-for-nothing. His mind began to dream of hanging out with them regularly, with Jimmy telling him he felt the same way Stan did…things never had gone so well for him before, which had Stan nervously wondering how long this would last.

They reached the front walk of the Shack, and that’s where they both slowed to a stop. Jimmy looked up at the sky above them, and he eventually became silent as he stared at the sky.

“Some view, huh,” Jimmy mumbled after a second. Stan looked up, and was almost taken aback by how many stars were out. The whole sky seemed to be lit up, and the moon was big and full above them. Stan snuck a peek at Jimmy, the starlight reflecting off his face and shining in his eyes as he looked upwards. Stan nearly reeled back like he had been slapped, because…he had never seen anything more amazing.

“Y-yeah,” he whispered back, starry-eyed, as Jimmy turned back to him. The other man smiled, the starlight and his expression lighting up his face in a way that had Stan’s breathing cutting off.

“Thanks for coming out tonight, doll.” Jimmy put his hand on Stan’s shoulder, voice low as he smiled. “Wanting to see you again was a good call.”

“O-oh, yeah, I had a great time, too,” Stan blushed with a smile, the hand on his shoulder burning hot. “C-can…I don’t know, uh, if you want, m-maybe we could possibly…do this again?”

Stan peeked up at Jimmy cautiously, cheeks pink and heart beating in his ears. Jimmy stared at him for a second, and Stan was suddenly filled with fearful dread. Of course it was too good to be true. For the first time in his life, when he actually felt happy and accepted somewhere and like this, it wouldn’t last.

Just as his heart started to shatter, Jimmy’s hand on Stan’s shoulder squeezed, eyes half-lidded as he grinned down at Stanley.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, doll,” Jimmy smiled, voice low. “The way I see it, you’re already one of us.” Jimmy leaned closer, hand cupping the side of Stan’s face. Stan blinked a couple of times, cheeks red and heart hammering in his chest.

“And you’re not _just_ one of us. You’re mine,” he purred so quietly it was almost a whisper, but Stan sure heard it.

Those words alone meant more to Stan than Jimmy would ever know.


	3. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the bookmarks, comments, and kudos!

Ford glanced over at Fiddleford curiously as the two of them waited for Stanley to come back into the room. He knew his brother had been acting stranger than usually lately, and he assumed he was finally about to get answers. Thank heavens, he was close to starting an investigation!

Ford had first noticed his brother’s change in behavior the night Stan came home later than usually from work. Fiddleford had woken him up, grumbling sleepily about a weird sound coming from the living room. Ford tugged on a robe and got out of bed, trudging to the living room of the Mystery Shack. He was surprised to see his brother there, awake at…close to four in the morning! Stanley had always been a night owl, but this was new territory for him. Plus, he was _singing_ , dancing through the kitchen with a cigarette smoking between his teeth.

Ford had rubbed his eyes, sure he was dreaming. Because not only did Stan refuse to dance after what had happened with Carla, but he had barely even smiled lately. And here he was, dancing and singing through their kitchen! And the cigarette was certainly new – last time Stan had tried smoking, he threw up on the floor and stomped the cigarette underneath his foot. Ford decided not to question it or break his fun, hoping his brother would tire himself out as he trudged back to his rom.

Apparently, whatever was making Stan so happy continued on as Ford watched Stanley over the next couple of weeks. His brother picked up some new habits, like smoking (to Ford’s surprise and chagrin) and dressing nicer. Stan worked his regular jobs during the day, and stayed out until late at night. And when he’d come home, he’d nearly be dancing as he snuck through the Shack. Even during the days, he’d head off to work with a grin and come home with an even bigger one.

And when Ford would see Stan smiling like that, it made him smile just as big. Stan being happy was a benediction – Ford knew how his brother worked, and he knew he had been feeling down about a lot lately. Ford didn’t want or need Stan to pay him anything for living at the Shack, but Stan always had a thing about feeling like a mooch. That went way back to the things their father used to say to them, and it was drilled into Stan’s head that he was worthless, no matter how much Ford tried to convince him otherwise.

Ford had really been sure Stan believed that he was worthless, especially the way he had been acting lately. His brother would either shuffle around the Shack, grumbling some sort of complaint about whatever, or offering Ford a forced smile to try and get him not to worry. But of course, Ford knew Stan too well not to see the sad gleam behind his eyes.

So when Stanley stepped to the front of the room, grinning a thousand-watt smile, Ford squeezed Fiddleford’s hand with a grin. He hadn’t seen Stanley smile like this…well, ever. Not even when they were little kids. Ford was happy for him, and he wondered where in the world Stanley could be getting such happiness from. He hoped it wasn’t anything to be worried about, but he couldn’t really help worrying.

Stanley looked between the two men he considered more family than his parents, grinning almost nervously as he took a drag off a cigarette.

“Okay, my two favorite nerds…” Stan rubbed his hands together. “I have some news for you!”

“Let’s hear it, Stanley,” Ford smiled. Stan was practically glowing from where he stood at the front of the room, twirling his cigarette between his fingers with a clean-shaven face and nice clothes.

“Does this happen to be about your happy mood lately?” Fiddleford asked with a smile.

“Why yes, it is actually,” Stan replied, grinning wider. “This is kind of about taking that happiness a step further! You two, I’ve been seeing someone. And I want you to meet him! Tonight!”

Fiddleford’s eyebrows rose in surprise, as did Ford’s for two separate reasons.

“You’ve been so happy…because you’re dating someone?” Ford gaped in surprise. The past couple weeks flashed through Ford’s mind – the dizzy smiles, the happy demeanor, the nice clothes, the new habits. Stanley was seeing someone!

A smile suddenly brightened Ford’s face, and he was beaming at his brother. “Well, Stanley, of course I’ll meet him! That’s great that you’re dating again!”

Stan was smiling incredibly brightly, and relief washed over Ford like a river. He was scared his brother had gotten into, like, some shady business or something. But he was just seeing someone! That was great for him emotionally, too, because he hadn’t dated in such a long time.

“What about you, Fidds?” Stan asked, a bit of nervousness still evident on his face. Fiddleford blinked away the shock – he always thought Stan was such a ladies man…emphasis on the ‘ladies….’ But after the shock wore off, Fiddleford was grinning like an idiot.

“Of course, Stan!” He laughed, “I’d love to meet whoever’s makin’ ya this happy and shake his hand!” Stan cheered before tackling them into a bear hug, nearly crushing them both.

“You guys are gonna love him! He’s super cool, and a complete badass! I could go on about him for hours, but I’ll let you two figure it out for yourselves!” Stan grinned excitedly, releasing them and sending them both knocking into each other.

“Well, what time is he coming?” Ford chuckled, helping Fiddleford off the ground and back onto the couch. Ford couldn’t help but smile at the way Stan was smiling so excitedly, grinning at himself in the mirror as he used a hand to slick his hair back.

“He should be here in the evening.” Stan turned to them both, grin lighting up the whole room. “So get ready and look nice, you knuckleheads!”

Ford and Fiddleford got ready together, Ford smiling all the while. Whoever this guy was, he had Stan acting like Ford had never seen him before. This guy was so impressionable on him he not only had him completely lifted out of his stupor, but he had him a nervous, excited mess. Stan wasn’t even this bad when he was a teenager, and those days were some crazy, awkward times. Ford had to admit, he was excited to meet whoever had his brother so love-struck.

The doorbell rang roughly at six o’clock, just as the sun was setting over Gravity Falls. Stan inhaled, flashing Ford a smile, before making his way to the door. Ford smiled from where he and Fiddleford stood, ready to meet this guy.

“Hey,” Stan’s face lit up as he opened the door, grinning with gleaming eyes at the person on the other side.

“Heya, baby doll.”

Fiddleford giggled from where he stood as Stan blushed, tugging at his shirt collar. Ford had to stifle a giggle as well – _baby doll_?

“Heh, come on in.” Stan opened the door wider, reaching out for the hand of the other man to lead him in. A big hand curled around Stan’s as he let Stan lead him inside. When Stan opened his fingers to drop the bigger hand, the other man didn’t let it go.

Ford blinked in surprise looking at the man in front of him. He had blonde hair and a matching blonde mustache, red bandana, and a leather jacket. He was kind of a scary guy, actually, and looked like the kind of guys who used to bully him and Stan back when they were younger. An instant chill went up Ford’s spine at the sight of the man, which he pushed away the second it came. Ford would’ve been much more unsettled if it wasn’t for Stan’s starry eyes and their connected hands.

“Fidds, Ford, this is Jimmy.” Stan smiled shyly, gesturing to the man whose hand was locked in his. “Jimmy, this is my brother Ford and his boyfriend, Fiddleford.”

“Hi, nice to meet you!” Ford extended a six-fingered hand. Jimmy stared at his hand for the briefest of seconds, lips quirking, before he shook Ford’s hand.

“Nice to meet ya,” Jimmy smirked, squeezing his hand. Ford blinked, smile faltering for the briefest of seconds. That…that was weird. But…this was the guy who made Stanley so happy, so surely he was trustworthy and good. Ford wondered why he instantly got the opposite vibe…

Jimmy’s eyes flickered over to Fiddleford, and Stan didn’t seem to notice Jimmy briefly look over the other man with an unreadable expression. Ford’s eyebrows knitted, weird feeling at full blast, which he tried to push away.

“Howdy! Nice to finally meet ya.” Fiddleford extended his hand with a smile. Jimmy’s strange expression was gone as quick as it came, and he smiled at Fiddleford.

“Nice to meet ya too,” he replied. He turned to Stan, who was smiling widely, before he grinned at him.

“You wanna show me around this place, doll?” he murmured to him, quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah! You’ve heard all the stories, it’s about time you see the real thing!” Stan laughed. “You two stay here for a few. I’m just giving Jimmy a quick tour.” Stan grinned at Fiddleford and Ford, and still holding Jimmy’s hand, he led the man out of the room.

Ford blinked a couple of times, watching them go. Jimmy…he…well, Ford hated to admit it, but the guy gave him weird vibes. Fears began to race through his head, because what if this guy broke Stan’s heart? He’d be devastated! He’d—

“So? Whaddya think?” Fiddleford nudged Ford, who nearly jumped ten feet in the air as he turned to him.

“Jimmy? Oh, he’s…” Ford paused to listen to Stan laughing from the other room. Ford managed a smile, “He’s definitely good to Stanley, so he must be a good guy.” He decided that was correct; all the guy had done was shake his hand, and he was already worried he was a bad guy! Ford knew he was quick to judge, but _geez_. Jimmy is probably a good guy who comes off a little strong, that’s all.

But throughout dinner, Ford still had that weird feeling in his gut. Sure, the guy came off as nice and charming. He was definitely affectionate to Stanley, always finding a way to touch him or hold his hand. And Ford noticed the way Stan acted around Jimmy. His brother turned into a lovesick puppy, and he looked at Jimmy like he was the most amazing, wonderful thing in the world.

Ford also noticed, however, the way Jimmy kept glancing at Fiddleford. He wasn’t exactly sure what that was about…but whatever it was, he didn’t like it. And Ford also noticed the way Jimmy smirked at himself – every time Ford said something, Jimmy would grin at him. Nobody else seemed to notice, and nobody else seemed to have that odd feeling in their gut.

Dinner was done soon enough, and Stan was holding Jimmy’s jacket as he fished around for the keys to his motorcycle.

“Thanks for having me over for dinner.” Jimmy nodded to Ford with a smile. “It was nice to meet you guys, again.”

“Feel free to come by anytime,” Ford replied with a smile and a nod, although he felt something along the lines of regret as soon as he said it. Jimmy cast Fiddleford a sideways glance before snaking an arm around Stan’s back, grinning at him.

“You wanna go for a ride, baby doll?” he asked, lips quirking as he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Stan grinned back, taking Jimmy’s opened palm. They two men turned around and began walking out the door. As the screen closed behind them, Jimmy turned around and winked at Ford before the two were out of sight.

Ford blinked, the sick, uneasy feeling twisting in his gut. Goodness, he hoped this man wasn’t as bad as he was beginning to think he was.

It would destroy Stan past repair.

 

* * *

  
Stan sighed contently, leaning against Jimmy as the two of them sat in the back seat of the Stanley Mobile. They were on their way out to some bar or something when it started raining, and they had to take Jimmy’s motorcycle to the lot where Stan had his car parked to wait out the rain.

Stan’s brain was still swimming with happiness, because tonight’s dinner had gone great! Jimmy got along really well with Fiddleford and Ford, and he was glad to meet them. Stan had always wanted to suggest a dinner, but he didn’t want to scare Jimmy off with the ‘meet the family’ junk. But Jimmy was the one to suggest it! And in Stan’s opinion, it went amazingly.

Stan’s heart was thumping as Jimmy mindlessly ran his fingers through his hair, humming to himself as the rain pounded against the window. Stan had never felt more content, yet so dizzy in his life. This was the way he got every time Jimmy touched him, though, so it was nothing all too new.

“What’d you think of dinner, doll?” Jimmy murmured, fingers dragging through Stan’s hair.

“I think it went great,” Stan replied with a smile, eyes closed in relaxation. He snuggled further against Jimmy, butterflies fluttering through his stomach as his cheeks warmed. “…Thank you, for doing this. It…It really meant a lot to me. All of this, it really means so much.”

“It was my pleasure,” Jimmy grinned into his hair. Stan sighed contently, ready to sink into this calm silence and maybe even fall asleep. Jimmy was quiet for a while, and his fingers stopped dragging through Stan’s hair, reduced to a light tapping.

“…Stan. There’s something I need to tell you.”

Those words alone woke Stan right up, heart skipping a couple of beats. Those words were never good. He swallowed down his uneasiness, hoping Jimmy would let him stay laying here so he wouldn’t have to see how worried he probably looked.

“W-what?”

Big hands sat him up to face him, and Stan’s heart was sinking fast. What was this about? Did he think they were moving too fast or something? Dinner was his idea! How could—

“I don’t want you around Fiddleford anymore.”

“Huh?” Stan’s eyebrows knitted, blinking a couple times. “…Am I hearing you right?”

“Look, doll. He’s way into your brother, and you guys are twins. If he likes a guy who looks exactly like you, then I can’t trust him around you.” Jimmy raised an eyebrow at him. Stan was basically Fiddleford’s teasing older brother, and the idea alone was enough to make him unable to stifle a laugh.

“That’s hilarious!” Stan laughed, “Me and Ford are completely different people, you don’t have to worry about—”

“Stan,” Jimmy said stiffly. “I don’t want you around him.” Stan’s eyes widened as it slowly dawned on him was Jimmy was being _serious_. He didn’t want him talking to one of his best friends…his brother’s boyfriend. Stan could hardly believe it, and when his eyes met Jimmy’s he was surprised by how sharp and serious they looked. He recoiled like a kicked puppy at the look Jimmy was giving him.

“Wha…Don’t you trust me?” Stan asked in a small voice.

“Don’t you trust _me_? I know what’s best for you.” Jimmy tilted his chin upwards so he’d make eye contact with him.

“Jimmy…” Stan looked into the green eyes he dreamed about every night, “I—”

“Stan. I’m serious about this.” Stan shook his head weakly, but his eyes snapped up to Jimmy’s when he felt a big hand on his cheek. He couldn’t help but lean into Jimmy’s touch, dying for the warmth that was usually in his eyes instead of this sharp expression. Stan completely stopped breathing as they locked eyes, and then, suddenly, Jimmy’s other hand found the opposite side of his face, and pulled him closer.

The minute Jimmy kissed Stan, it was like fireworks shot off throughout Stan’s body. His head spun, butterflies exploding and lightning zapping through his nerves. When Jimmy slowly pulled away, Stan was too dazed to see the winning smirk on the other’s face.

“I think I just proved how much I care about you, baby doll. And when I say I don’t want you around that guy, it’s what’s best for you,” Jimmy murmured, quirking an eyebrow. Stan nodded dumbly, mind clouded over with the experience of his amazing first kiss with Jimmy. And he was so confused…because he couldn’t do that to Fiddleford…but…was it reasonable for Jimmy to not want him around him? Was Stan in the wrong here? Jimmy would never do anything that he didn’t think was best for him. He just proved how much he cared about him, and right now, Stan really just wanted him to prove it again.

“Okay,” Stan gave in, and Jimmy grinned at him before cupping his face again. Stan sighed, leaning into his touch, before their lips collided again.

Hey, and he could still see Fiddleford. What Jimmy didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

It would just end up hurting Stan.


	4. Turn a Blind Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand we get into the angst and Stan-manipulation! (poor baby)
> 
> Thank you for all the bookmarks, comments, and kudos!

“Heya, Fidds!” Stan lifted his hand from where it was stuffed inside the pocket of his leather jacket, grinning as he sat down across from Fiddleford. The other man smiled back, raising an excited eyebrow as he showed Stan the paper-stuffed binder with the glasses sketched on the front. Stan rubbed his hands together – they were gonna get Ford so good this year!

Fiddleford asked him to come out to dinner and help him plan out his big Valentine’s Day surprise for Ford. Stan helped him with it every year, being as the two of them combined were the biggest Ford Pines Database imaginable. The two of them knew him better than everyone else, and were the best people possible when it came to knowing exactly how to shock, awe, and mildly embarrass Ford. It was a Valentine's Day tradition for…wow, a _long time_. And the grand gestures only got bigger and better every year!

Stan couldn’t help but feel mild knots in his stomach, because he knew it wasn’t exactly in his best interest to be hanging around with Fidds. But hey, this was a tradition, and Jimmy would probably understand...probably. He knew the guy wasn’t the biggest fan of Fiddleford, but it was only with good intentions. Stan thought it was actually kind of cute, the way Jimmy was so caring and protective that he’d worry about the world’s biggest softie putting the moves on him.

“Thanks for coming out tonight, Stan.” Fiddleford smiled at him from across the table. “I know you’ve been busy lately with Jimmy and all. I feel like I haven’t seen ya in a long time!”

“Heh, yeah.” Stan rubbed his neck, shrugging sheepishly. If it was up to Jimmy, Stan wouldn’t be seeing him at all. “Sorry about that. But hey, we’re here now! Let’s talk Valentine's Day!”

Fiddleford began rambling on about this year’s Valentine's Day extravaganza, and Stan laughed and listened and made sarcastic comments to all the ideas he was dishing out. The guy only seemed to get more devious about these things every year, which was always pretty amusing. As Fiddleford began talking about his Valentine's Day, Stan couldn’t help but daydream about his own. It would be his and Jimmy’s first holiday together, and the stars couldn’t have aligned better, because Valentine's Day just so happened to be the most sappy and romantic day of the year. Maybe Jimmy was planning something big…the guy _was_ perfect at the grand gestures himself…but what could he be up to? All Stan had to do was bake him some bread, and he’d be golden (Stan had made some bread once and Jimmy nearly ate the entire loaf in one bite). He—

“…Stanley?” Fiddleford snapped him back to the present, and Stan nearly jumped in his chair. “…You’re lookin’ mighty hot under all that leather. Don’tcha wanna take it off?”

“Oh, no,” Stan said instantly, tugging at the collar of his leather jacket. Come to think of it, it was pretty hot in here. He wiped his hand over his forehead, suddenly aware he was sweating. He had completely forgotten he was wearing his leather jacket, and it registered to him that he was sweltering in it, but it was the one Jimmy had gotten for him and told him not to take off. Jimmy had given him his own leather jacket – the one with the snake carved into the back that Stan had stared at in awe – and said he wanted Stan to leave it on. It meant a lot to Jimmy, and Stan really didn’t want to break this promise to him, even if the blonde wouldn’t find out.

“I, ah, I’m fine, really. I’ll leave it on. Keep talking, Fidds.” Stan offered him one of his usual smirks that let him know everything was perfectly fine. Fiddleford looked at him carefully before falling back into talking. Stan was trying to convince himself he _wasn’t_ burning alive in this jacket, laughing and commenting as Fiddleford talked, as he tried to fall back into his Valentine's Day daydreams.

The two continued talking and laughing about the best way to knock the socks off of Ford as the dinner continued. The two had just ordered their food – free meals were always a day-brightener for Stan – and Stan was having a great time. Why didn’t he and Fiddleford do this more often, anyways?

Fiddleford was in the middle of writing something down, commenting on how he should flash mob Ford _after_ he does the fireworks, when a chill suddenly went up Stan’s spine. He suddenly felt ice cold, all the heat washing straight out of his body as goosebumps covered his arms and the hair rose on the back of his neck.

Stan shivered, blinking as he tried to shake this weird feeling that suddenly settled over him. What in the hell was this? He had never had this weird of a feeling before – and he had definitely experienced some weird things in his life – but it almost felt like someone was watching him. Yeesh, he was getting paranoid or something. Maybe he and Ford _did_ have the same over-paranoia Stan always teased him about…

“So, whaddya think? Do you think he’ll like it?” Fiddleford asked excitedly, finishing the last note he had jotted down. Stan grinned haughtily, because, let’s face it, this was the best one they’d planned so far!

“He’ll love it! And I think—”

Stan yelped, jolting back into his seat, as two huge hands slammed down onto the table from a body behind him. Fiddleford gasped, eyes huge, as he stared at the owner of the hands. What the heck?!

“Hey, buddy!” Stan slammed up from the table, turning to face whoever had just done that. He really didn’t want to fight in the middle of the restaurant, but he certainly wasn’t going to back down from some asshole who nearly flipped over their table. Plus, at least he had a good excuse to punch someone and get some stress relief. “Listen, I don’t know who you think you are, but—”

Stan cut himself off, stomach dropping to his feet and eyes blown wide as he saw the face of the person who slammed their hands on the table. That eerily familiar chill he had felt all night shot up his spine, freezing him to the core.

“Oh, I know who I am. I think it’s you that needs to learn your place,” Jimmy hissed, hand clasping in a deadly grip on Stan’s arm. Stan gaped at Jimmy, unable to bring any words to the surface. He could only stare as Jimmy glared at him like a curse, shock rolling over his body in waves. His eyes looked from Jimmy to Fiddleford, and everything clicked into place. His brain began going into overdrive, because shitshitshit, what was Jimmy even doing here anyways??

“W-Wait, this is just—”

“Come on,” Jimmy snarled roughly, tugging him out of his chair by the arm. Stan yelped, nearly falling onto the ground, and he caught a glimpse of Fiddleford’s mortified face as he was pulled to his feet. Ugh, no, he didn’t want his friend not to like Jimmy, and he didn’t want to get into an argument…but both of those things seemed like they were both going to happen as Jimmy tugged him out of his seat.  
He thought about ripping away from Jimmy and saying _something_ to Fidds, but he couldn’t find it in him to pull away. He couldn’t find it in him to do anything, because he was still so shocked, and his brain couldn’t catch up with the rest of him…

“Jimmy! W-what the heck!” Stan tried yanking away from Jimmy once they got outside, the cold February air hitting them as the doors to the restaurant slammed behind them. Apparently that was the wrong move, because Jimmy’s eyes practically lit on fire at Stan trying to pull away, and Stan stopped breathing for a second and recoiled, because _wow_ , that look was terribly intense.

“Get on,” Jimmy hissed, tugging Stan over to his motorcycle. Stan glanced back at the restaurant, because he really should apologize to Fiddleford…but Jimmy’s expression gave him no room for argument, and he knew at this point, it was probably best not to put up a huge fight.

When they got back to Jimmy’s place, which wasn’t a long drive, especially with Jimmy speeding dangerously fast, Stan was practically dragged through the door. He could’ve sworn he saw fire in Jimmy’s eyes, and the hand on his wrist seemed scorching hot. Finally, once the door was slammed behind them, Stan’s arm was let go and he stumbled backwards.

“I told you to stay away from him!” Jimmy yelled, hands balled into fists as he looked at the wall like he was going to punch straight through it. “That damn redneck hick!”

“Hey! He’s my friend!” Stan defended in shock, crossing his arms. Yeah, sure, he had heard Jimmy say some not-so-nice things about Fiddleford that he could force himself to overlook, but…that was too far. Jimmy swiftly turned to him, eyes flaming as he growled.

“I told you,” he ground out through his teeth, stepping way into Stan’s personal space, “to have nothing to do with him. Unless that’s what you want? Unless you want him and not me?”

“Wha—? Are you nuts? Of course I want you—”

“Then you’d better listen to what I say!” Jimmy yelled. Stan blinked a couple of times, anger suddenly bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

“You can’t just tell me I can’t see one of my friends ever again just because you don’t trust me!” Stan blurted desperately. Jimmy can’t just…just pull him out of a restaurant and then bring him back here and yell at him! What was with this yelling? Stan shrunk back at the look Jimmy was giving him, and at the fact that the guy who was usually so charming and sweet was getting so angry with him. Did he really do something so wrong? He certainly didn’t want to be arguing about anything with Jimmy, and Stan paled at how angry the other man suddenly looked.

“I can and I did,” he growled, big hands balling into fists. “And what did you do? You kept seeing him anyways!”

“Fiddleford has been my friend for years! And he’s dating my brother, how would I even stop seeing him?”

“ _You_ can figure that out, but you’re going to make it work,” Jimmy hissed, jabbing him in the chest. Stan fumbled back, blinking several times in shock. “Do you really think that guy would be around you if he had the choice? The only reason he tolerates you is because he’s gotta score points with your look-alike. He’s no different from everyone else out there who wants to hurt you, who thinks you’re worthless. I’m the only one who really cares!”

Stan’s gaze burned a hole into the ground as Jimmy’s words hit him like a pile of bricks. That couldn’t really be true…could it? Stan shook his head, trying to ignore the sick feeling that washed over his body.

“Why is this such a big deal?” He whimpered, gripping the edges of his leather jacket like a curse. Arguing with Jimmy like this was leaving the worst, sick feeling in his gut. The green eyes that were usually so warm were ice cold, yet flaming as they bore into him. He hated this! He just wanted Jimmy to be happy with him. He flinched at the other man’s glare as it only got more intense.

“You are _mine_ , and I decide who you can and cannot see,” Jimmy hissed, snatching Stan’s wrist in his. Stan opened his mouth to protest, but Jimmy’s strangling grip on his wrist had only a gasp coming out of his throat.

“And you’ll damn sure listen to me when I talk to you! You’re mine, nobody else’s!” Jimmy yelled, voice booming throughout the apartment. Stan just wanted Jimmy to stop yelling already, and he could feel something pricking at the edges of his eyes that he forced himself to ignore.

“Jimmy, let go!” Stan grunted, looking down at his wrist that definitely shouldn’t be twisting like that.

“You know what? Fine.” Jimmy let him go and turned around, walking away from Stan and towards the door. Stan blinked, cradling his twisted wrist as he watched Jimmy dumbly. Wait…what? What is Jimmy…? Stan paled, panic suddenly raking over his body as he realized Jimmy was going towards the door, and that he had just let go…a-and what is he—

“W-where are you going?” Stan blanched, not moving from where he stood in the middle of the room.

“I’m leaving.” Jimmy said flatly, “You should be out of here by the time I come back.”

“L-leaving?” Stan squeaked, the leather jacket twisting under his deathly tight grip.

“You obviously don’t want to be with me,” Jimmy glanced back at him, glaring like a curse. “Which is funny, because who else is going to be with you? I’m the best thing you’re ever gonna get, and I’m the only one who really cares about you.”

Stan watched Jimmy’s palm curl around the doorknob like a deer in headlights, brain short-circuiting and body jolting with panic. What was going on?? This was such a big deal to Jimmy he thinks Stan doesn’t want him? He has no idea how much Stan wants him! But what was with this temper? Stan rubbed his wrist, a small whimper escaping his throat.

“Jimmy,” Stan blurted out, taking a step closer to the blonde. “W-Wait.”

Stan let out a shaky sigh of relief when Jimmy let go of the doorknob. The fear of losing Jimmy had already nearly knocked him off of his feet, and all he knew was, he didn’t want him to go.

“I-I’ll stop seeing Fiddleford. Okay? I’ll really stop, I swear,” Stan tried to keep his voice level, but it cracked on the last word. He couldn’t help the anxious feeling in his gut…because he didn’t _want_ to stop talking to his friend. Besides his brother, Fiddleford was his favorite nerd! How would that even work? What would he tell Ford? Jimmy’s words from earlier rang through his ears, and Stan was doubting how much of his friendship with Fiddleford was real now more than ever. Sure, he had had his doubts in the past…but he had doubts about everyone. Having Jimmy say it…it only brought it more to light.

And…this really meant a lot to Jimmy. Jimmy was angry because he didn’t want to lose Stan, and Stan could relate to that. Jimmy was jealous because he cared so much. Prior to this, Stan had only noticed Jimmy being like this a couple of times, but it was over little things, like constantly wearing this jacket. The guy was passionate, and he really cared about Stan. Enough to try and fix his flaws, for his own good. Stan understood this, and he couldn’t say that a lot of people cared about him. Even still, he didn’t like how he didn’t have a choice anymore…he looked down at his twisted wrist, gnawing on his bottom lip.

Jimmy turned around, cocking an eyebrow at Stan. Stan stared at him desperately as Jimmy walked over to him, and then the blonde tilted Stan’s chin up so he’d look at him. Stan’s heart was pounding in his chest, as it did every time Jimmy touched him, and he was praying that Jimmy would just let this go, and that he wouldn’t leave him…

“That’s my good kitten,” Jimmy grinned, cupping Stan’s face. The nickname shook Stan to the core, butterflies erupting in Stan’s stomach, and he practically melted into Jimmy’s touch, eyes fluttering shut and his hands wrapping around Jimmy’s. Praise had never felt so good before. Hot Belgian waffles, did he miss this guy being like this, thank goodness that was over.

And it registered to Stan that of course Jimmy was doing this for him. Maybe he was even right about Fiddleford, after all. Maybe he was right when he said Fiddleford only tolerated Stan because he had to, because Ford would be mad if he didn’t. It’s not like Fidds ever hung out with just Stan, other than when it was Ford-related. Jimmy was the only person out there besides his brother who cared about him, and certainly the best guy he’d ever come across in a million years. The only reason Jimmy was upset was because he cared. Even though Stan’s gut was twisting, his heart was still thumping in his chest as Jimmy grinned at him.

When Jimmy kissed him, the butterflies in his stomach worked out and overshadowed the twisted knots that were forming there.

 

* * *

 

Ford hummed as he walked into the Mystery Shack, dropping his spaceship lanyard into the bowl as he began walking through the house. It had been a long day of research, and he was ready to kick back and relax with Fiddleford. Hopefully Stanley would be by for a while as well, but that was wishful thinking.

His brother had been occupied with Jimmy quite often lately, which Ford wasn’t sure whether he was happy or anxious about. Jimmy did cast a lot of bad vibes…and there was that suspicious wink…but Stanley seemed to just adore the guy. It had to be good for him to be feeling adored right back – at least Jimmy seemed like he liked Stanley just as much as he liked him. Maybe the guy could help Stan realize he wasn’t as worthless as Filbrick had told him nearly every day of his life, because Lord knows that nobody else ever could.

Ford suddenly got a good whiff of the air, and his nose was instantly filled with smoke. He coughed, always hating that damn smoke smell, as he looked for whoever was smoking a cigarette. Even though he hated the smell, he was actually relieved to smell cigarette smoke, because he knew it had to be Stanley. Finally, he was home, and Ford could make sure everything was good and well in his brother’s life.

Ford walked into the kitchen, completely taken aback as he saw his boyfriend anxiously puffing on a cigarette.

“Fiddleford?” Ford gaped, the other man turning quickly to see him. Ford could clearly remember Fiddleford trying so hard to quit smoking, and then vowing he’d never do it again. What had him so stressed that he was smoking?

“O-oh, Ford.” Fiddleford rubbed the bridge of his nose, glasses nearly slipping off of his face. “I was expectin’ you’d be Stanley.”

“Why?” Ford asked curiously, standing next to the other man and gently taking the cigarette from him. Fiddleford offered him a small smile as Ford took a drag off of it, then crushed it underneath his foot.

“Well—” Fiddleford’s smile dropped into a worried frown as he looked at the dark circles underneath Ford’s eyes. “…Ford, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, I just had a long day.” Ford yawned, weakly smiling at Fiddleford. “I was hoping we’d get to have a relaxing evening to help me take my mind off of things.” Fiddleford stared at him for a couple of seconds, eyes trained on the dark circles and unbrushed hair, and he could see the other man swallow down what he had to say as he nodded at him.

“Of course we can,” he smiled, smoothing down some of Ford’s hair. “That would be mighty fine.”

“Good,” Ford grinned, grabbing Fiddleford’s hand as the two of them made their way to the living room. Ford noticed how Fiddleford still looked anxious, and he frowned slightly. “Is everything alright?”

“O-oh, yeah, everything’s fine,” he replied quickly. Fiddleford sighed, nodding to himself. “Yeah. Everything is fine, I’m sure.” Ford decided not to press it any further – Fidds could get easily stressed, and the guy was paranoid about a lot of things. It was usually best not to bother him when he got like that, but Ford had to admit he was curious as to what could’ve gotten the man smoking again.

The evening was the first truly relaxing one Ford had had in a long time - research sure was tiring lately, plus the extra stress of his brother’s nearly constant absence burning at the back of his mind. Ford had managed to forgot all his stress for a couple hours, and he felt nearly refreshed by the time the phone rang later that night.

“Hello?” Ford answered, hoping it would finally be his brother.

“Hey, Sixer.”

“Stanley,” he sighed in relief. “Thank goodness you called, I was starting to get worried. You should’ve called earlier, you know.”

“Eh, I should’ve done a lot of things. Anyways, I’m in the backyard by the swings. Meet me outside.” Stan’s line clicked off, and Ford looked outside the window to see his brother trying to fit his butt into one of the swings. Ford laughed to himself, shaking his head as he made his way outside.

Stan smiled at him as Ford climbed into the swing next to him, and soon, they were both sitting in the swings and looking up at the night stars. They had shipped in the swing set from Glass Shard, the one they used to use when they were kids. Something about it was settling, and calm, and Ford had found himself coming out here a lot more ever since Stan had been around less and less. He knew that growing up and getting involved with people was part of life, and he was happy for his brother, and himself…but he just wished that he didn’t have such a weird feeling that something was off.

“…How’ve you been lately, Stanley?” Ford asked the question he had been dying to know. “I’ve hardly seen you these past couple weeks.”

“Oh, I’ve, uh, been great,” Stan shrugged, swinging carelessly back and forth. “Sorry I haven’t been around so much lately. That’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What?” Ford looked to him, mildly surprised that Stan had actually called him out here for a reason. He noticed something flicker behind his brother’s eyes, and Ford tilted his head at him. For the first time in a while, he had no idea what Stan was thinking.

“Well…me and you, we haven’t had any ‘twin time’ in a really long while. So…would it be alright if just us hung out next time?” Stan asked, not making eye contact with Ford as he swung back and forth. What could this be about? Something told Ford that Stan wasn’t just missing their twin time…but he decided to ignored it. He _hadn’t_ had twin time with his brother in a while, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss it.

“Okay, yeah, that’d be nice.” he managed a smile. “Is everything okay?” Stan hummed and nodded in reply, hands digging deeper into his leather jacket. Ford decided not to press the issue, even though he really wanted to. Everything was probably fine with Stan, and he was being paranoid again.

“Well…” Stan kept one hand buried in his pocket, moving the sleeve down on his other to look at his watch. “I’ve gotta get going, Sixer.”

“Wha—already?” Ford frowned, looking at his brother sadly. Stan obviously saw the sadness in his face, and Ford didn’t mean for him to, and Ford instantly felt bad for making his brother look so guilty.

“I’ll probably swing by tomorrow, and then we can go out and have some fun. I was thinkin’ treasure hunting…” Stan cracked a smile, nudging Ford with his elbow. Ford grinned back, his gut panging, because…he really missed Stan, and he was sad he was leaving again…and he could tell something was weird here, not just regular Gravity Falls weird.

Stan flashed him a smile and a peace-sign with his non-pocketed hand as he made his way to the motorcycle that had just pulled into the driveway.


	5. Warning Bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but the finale threw me off my writing track! It was so amazing, I couldn't be happier! 
> 
> And now, we get to continue with the angst and manipulation 
> 
> Thank you for all the bookmarks, comments, and kudos!!

Stan slammed the door to the bathroom behind him, running a hand through his hair as he slid back against the door.

“ _Stanley_. Come out of there _now_.”

Jimmy’s voice was so cold, so eerily low and sharp that Stan winced, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he tried to figure out how in the hell he’d get out of this one.

When had things gone so wrong?

Stan was proud to say that he had not only held up a relationship for almost four months, but it was a relationship he really wanted to be in. He had managed to keep one thing in his life together, and it just so happened to be the best thing in it. It was going to be four months in…well, Stan had it marked somewhere on the calendar he always carried around with him, but he knew the milestone was coming up.

Sure, four months wasn’t a huge thing to the average person in a relationship. It was usually these “half-a-year” deals when the first big milestone hit. But with Stan…well, he kind of celebrated every day he was with Jimmy. It was safe to say he had fallen for him, and he had fallen hard. Well, it actually wasn’t safe to say it, being as they hadn’t said the words yet, but Stan refused to be the first one to pansy out and say it. Jimmy was the “grand gesture-y” one in their relationship, and Stan was a-okay with that. Saves him possible embarrassment, even though he’s been wanting to say it for a while now.

And ever since the whole “Fiddleford thing…” well…things would sometimes go back to the same crazy atmosphere they were that day. Jimmy would get upset over…well, a lot of things. Sure, it was only because he cared…but Stan hated when they argued. He had dealt with enough yelling from his dad in one lifetime, and he definitely didn’t want to be feuding with Jimmy. But there was really no way to stop these things. Once Jimmy would get going, the only option was to ride it out, which could be hard. As much as he tried, Stan had a big mouth, and he could only go so long without getting himself into hotter water.

Their arguments…well, they were never over anything big. It was stupid stuff, like Jimmy wanting Stan to do this and Jimmy not wanting Stan to do that. He guessed he could kind of get where he was coming from with all this. Stan was a pretty big troublemaker, and if Ford’s not around, then nobody is going to keep him on track. Plus, Ford would never be truthful to Stan like Jimmy. When Jimmy would correct him, he’d give it to him straight, no sugar coating. And even though it could sting pretty bad…it was just the truth, and Stan couldn’t hold that against him.

There were good times, too, and in Stan’s opinion, there were more good than bad. When Jimmy would kiss him or pull him tight against him and run fingers through his hair until he fell asleep – those were the moments that outshine the bad. When they’d go on motorcycle rides in the rain, trying to see how fast they could go without crashing or getting pulled over, or when they’d sneak into movies and throw popcorn at the people in front of them the whole time. The moments when Stan’s heart was going wild, fingers slightly shaking and butterflies spazzing out – those were the moments he knew that Jimmy saw Stan the act same way Stan saw him, and that there was no point in ever worrying about their stupid arguments.

“ _Stanley_!”

A fist banged against the door, and Stan jumped away, back hitting against the wall. He swore under his breath, staring at the door as if he could see Jimmy on the other side. Whenever Jimmy used his full name, he knew he was in for trouble. He hated to admit that he really was freaked out about what would happen when he opens that door. What was it that Jimmy wanted this time? He couldn’t even remember! Stan groaned, rubbing his temples.

“If you don’t open this door, I’m breaking it down!”

Something flashed through Stan’s body – anger, maybe? A thought that this was crazy, and…and if he didn’t open this door, then he’d just be in more trouble. When Jimmy told him to cut his diet because he was looking fat, it was just because he cared about him. When he told him to constantly wear that leather jacket so everyone knew who he belonged to, it was just because he wanted everyone to know! All the stuff that would sound crappy to a regular person all had reasoning behind it. All of it! How did he end up in this bathroom, anyways? What was he hiding from?

Stan sighed, gathering up all his nerves before pulling open the door.

* * *

 

“Stanley!” Ford grinned, practically running and swinging open the front door at the sound of the bell. Finally, he’d get to see his brother, and he’d get to figure out what in the world had been going on with him lately! He’d finally be able to figure out if he was okay, and the two of them would be able to talk about—

Ford paused for a second as he was greeted with not only his brother, but with Jimmy alongside him. Oh. He had forgotten that Jimmy was coming over today. Ford hoped his face didn’t look as disappointed as he imagined it to.

“Heya, Sixer.” Stan grinned, catching his brother in a tight bear hug.

“Stanley, it’s so good to see you,” Ford laughed, hugging his brother back. “I feel like it’s been millenniums since I last saw you!”

“Heh, yeah…I-I’m sorry,” Stan rubbed the back of his neck, an unmistakable look flashing behind his eyes. Ford instantly caught it, and knew exactly what the look was, being as he was probably mirroring Stan’s expression.

He hadn’t seen his brother in…three weeks? Yes, three weeks seemed right. He’d call Stan only to get an answering machine, or to get a quick excuse and apology, and a quicker goodbye. Saying that he was worried about Stan was an understatement, and saying he missed his brother was an even bigger one.

And seeing him now…Ford could tell something was off. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on it, which was weird, because he knew Stan better than anyone else. He was a smart guy, but his true forte was being able to read his brother like a book. Stan seemed…more reserved than usual? Something about him wasn’t his usual zany self…

“Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Stan said in mild awe, craning his head to look inside the Shack. One minute Stan was trying to look inside, and the next, he had snapped back to Jimmy’s side, eyes averted. Ford’s eyebrows knitted, because that was weird even for Stanley…and then his eyes landed on the firm hand on Stan’s shoulder. What in the…

“Is that buddy of yours around?” Jimmy flatly cocked an eyebrow, hand squeezing Stan’s shoulder.

“Uh…Fiddleford?” Ford blinked in confusion, eyes still trained on Jimmy’s hand on Stan’s shoulder. “…No. I had thought today me and Stan could get some twin time—”

“Yeah, yeah, Look-Alike. You got any beer around here or what?” Jimmy took Stan’s hand in his, leading the man who actually lived there into the Shack. Stan let out a barely audible sigh, tips of his ears burning red, and Ford definitely didn’t miss the embarrassed face of Stan’s as he passed him. Okay, there was definitely something wrong here.

The original plans were that Stan and Ford were going out to one of their favorite restaurants and catch up, but with Jimmy tagging along, Ford knew he probably wouldn’t get any of the answers he’d be looking for. But as luck would have it, that dinner answered a lot of the questions he had been wondered about, and unfortunately, it had been all the answers he was hoping not to get. He began to wonder if he had missed these things all along.

Not only did he notice the constantly almost shy look on Stan’s—yes, _Stan’s_ —face, but he noticed the little things Jimmy did throughout the day. When Stan would begin to get to be his usual riled-up self, Jimmy would squeeze or put a hand on his shoulder, and Stan would instantly quiet down. It was like an obedience trick or something that a dog would do, and it had alarm bells blaring in Ford’s head. He tried to play it off as coincidence, but Jimmy did it incessantly.

And then there came a point where Ford couldn’t play it off as a coincidence anymore. When the waiter came by to take their main course order, Ford smiled as Stan grinned, snapping his menu shut haughtily. Stan had been getting the exact same double-bacon cheeseburger every single time they came here, and he and Ford had a huge inside joke about it that always made the two of them laugh so hard they’d fall out of the booth.

“And for you?” the waiter asked Stan, who didn’t even need a second to think about his order.

“I’ll take a—”

“He’ll just have a beer, same as me,” Jimmy interrupted, tilting down his sunglasses to look at Stan as he curled a hand around his shoulder. “You’re putting on a couple of pounds there, doll. Didn’t I tell you to lay off the cheeseburgers?”

Ford’s eyebrows rose in shock, glasses nearly falling off of his nose as Stan glanced away, offering the waiter a single nod in agreement at his order. Ford’s stomach twisted, a sick feeling settling over him. That was… _wow_. If anyone else had said that to Stan _and_ denied him a cheeseburger, they’d be beaten to a pulp. And Ford wanted to say something; he wanted to listen to the warning bells going off in his head…because even though Jimmy said it with the whole “doll” thing thrown in, it had a sharp edge to it. Had they had conversations about Stan putting on weight before? That was none of Jimmy’s business, and Stan looked healthier than ever! Why would he say something like that?

Had Stan been…going through stuff like this for the whole time? Terrible thoughts began to whirl through Ford’s head at what Stan had been up to in the weeks he had been barely around. He tried and tried to tell himself he was just being paranoid…because he didn’t miss the way Stan looked at Jimmy. Sure, there were moments where Stan would look flushed and anxious, but then there were moments where Stan’s eyes would be gleaming with adoration, cheeks glowing pink and a goofy smile on his face. Even though Jimmy seemed like a jerk, Stan was really hung up on him. So he couldn’t be as bad as Ford was thinking he was, could he?

As the night progressed, Stan was smiling and talking with much less vigor and enthusiasm as usual, but at least he seemed like he was having a good time. Maybe his brother was just nervous that Ford wouldn’t like Jimmy. There had to be some explanation as to why he was acting so…skittish. But he should know that if Jimmy meant that much to Stan, of course Ford would try and like the guy. That was why he was trying so hard, trying to ignore this weird feeling in his gut and all the things that Stan so easily ignored.

Ford had noticed Stan constantly tugging at the collar of his leather jacket, or wiping his hand across his forehead, and by the time dessert came around, he had to say something. Ford smirked at his stubborn brother – Stan would make fun of him for wearing turtlenecks in the summer, and here he was burning alive in this leather jacket.

“Stanley, it’s probably eighty degrees in here,” Ford chuckled, gesturing to his brother. “You can take that off, you know.”

“Oh.” Stan quickly looked from his leather jacket to Jimmy, who cocked an eyebrow at him. “N-nah, it’s alright, Sixer, I’m fine with it on.”

“You look like you’re burning alive in it,” Ford replied with a small laugh. “Don’t be so stubborn, take it off before you pass out.”

Stan blinked, looking down at the jacket. He paused before lifting a hand like he was going to take it off, instantly looking relieved. Stanley…he looked like he was dying to take off the jacket. Why would he be so hell-bent on keeping it—

“You want to leave it on. Don’t you, kitten?” Jimmy clasped a hand on Stan’s shoulder, causing Stan’s hand to jump away from the zipper like it was on fire.

“You don’t look like you want to leave it on,” Ford felt a protective anger wash over him as he looked at Jimmy’s hand on Stan’s shoulder. He had been trying to control his uneasiness at Jimmy’s little subtle tricks all night, but this was ridiculous! Stan looked to Ford like a deer in headlights, rubbing the back of his neck as his ears and cheeks burned red.

“ _Ford_ , I said it’s fine,” he ground out roughly through his teeth, but his voice was smaller than Ford had ever heard it. And looking at Stan, it was that moment that he realized something was really wrong with Stan and Jimmy’s relationship. Maybe Stan hadn’t been coming around because of an actual reason. Maybe Jimmy, who was training him like he was in obedience school, had something to do with it.

Ford looked across the table to see Stan blushing and stifling a laugh as Jimmy pulled him close and blew a slobbery raspberry against his cheek. Stan thought he was happy. He really did think Jimmy cared about him, and that they were in a relatively normal relationship. Ford knew it. Did Jimmy care about him? He had to, right?

But what if he didn’t? Stan would never be able to figure that out on his own. Ford knew he had to do something, heaven knows what, but it had to be something. Stan liked to act like he knew everything…but he needed Ford to help him see what he was too blind to notice. And as the night progressed, and as Ford was around Jimmy more and more…it became pretty obvious that something needed to be done. He just had to figure out how to approach this.

When the three got back to the shack, Ford quickly excused himself to the kitchen, muttering something about dishes and that he’d be out in a little bit. He leaned against the counter, running a hand through his hair as he looked down at his six fingers.

Stanley had always helped him, whether it was from bullies or emotional issues or monsters. One thing he could say about Stan was, he was a damn good brother. And Ford needed to figure out a way to help him. He couldn’t let Jimmy use him, if that’s what he was doing. He needed to find out what Jimmy’s real intentions with Stan are. He needed to—

“Hey, Six Fingers.”

Ford jumped, turning to see Jimmy leaning against the door and grinning with a cigar between his teeth. Ford’s face flushed, embarrassed at the nickname. He knew Jimmy had thought he was weird the minute he shook his hand. Ford managed a smile, although it was contrasting with the irritated expression in his eyes.

“Hello, Jimmy. Is everything alright?” Ford leaned over, wondering why Stan wasn’t in the doorway as well.

“Everything’s fine,” Jimmy hummed, looking Ford up and down with an appreciative grin. Ford bristled, and he had to stop himself from gaping. What in the hell…?

“You know, you really do look like Stan,” Jimmy smirked, eyeing Ford as he took a drag off his cigarette. “Except something about you is different. I like it.”

Jimmy winked at him before striding off, leaving Ford with a gaping jaw in the middle of the kitchen.

…What….

What???

Nonono, this had to be some kind of misconception! Jimmy wasn’t—he didn’t just hit on him! Those creepy looks were definitely _not_ the same ones Ford saw him giving Stan back when the two of them were in their honeymoon stage. They weren’t!

Ford stood there in a panic for a couple of seconds, unaware that the dish he was holding had long dropped from his hands and shattered to the floor. His mind was malfunctioning, unable to form words, b-because…

Ford flashed back to Stan’s adoring eyes that looked up at Jimmy, completely drunk on love. No, no, shit, this was…this was a catastrophe! Stan finally gets someone who lifts him out of his stupor…finally gets back out there and really _falls_ for someone…and of course, it _had_ to be this guy! The guy who just flirted with Stan’s own twin brother! Was that flirting? It couldn’t have been, right? Either way, it was terribly rude to Stanley! How would he tell him? Ugh, never had been right about something felt so terrible.

The thought of not telling Stan crossed his mind, but it was gone as quick as it came. It already seemed like Stan had fallen hard, but maybe Ford could save him from any more wasted time. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure on the flirting thing…he was so used to Fiddleford’s adorably shy way of going about relationships that he was hardy aware of what was flirting these days. But that was weird, whatever it was, and he knows Jimmy is a slimeball. And he has to tell Stan. but oh goodness, it would be so painful though. He’d be there for Stan every step of the way, they’d get through it together. And Jimmy…once Stan is done with that asshole, Ford is going to make him wish he didn’t mess with his brother.

But how would he tell Stan?

All he knew was, he needed to now. Any time he could save Stan, the better. He would tell him Jimmy is a jerk, and that he was getting eye-friendly with Ford, and he would help Stan with anything he needed. The minute he heard Jimmy starting his motorcycle outside, he rushed into the living room to see if Stan was still there. Thankfully, his brother was sitting in his yellow chair, looking completely relaxed for the first time in a long while. It registered to Ford how odd it was to see Stan sitting in the living room again – he hadn’t been inside his own home, in his own chair, in…in a long time.

“Ahh,” Stan sighed, sinking deeper into the chair, “I’ve missed you like hell, old buddy. Maybe Jimmy would let me stay a little bit longer and—”

“Stanley?” Ford took an unsure step into the living room, tilting his head slightly. Stan’s eyes snapped open, and he coughed into his sleeve as he quickly sat up from the chair.

“Heh, what’s the word, Sixer?” Stan asked, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. Ford swallowed thickly, wondering how in the world he would tell his brother that the guy he was crazy about was a sleazeball. Ford gestured for Stan to follow him, and the two of them went into the kitchen.

“Stanley…” Ford sighed, eyes burning into the ground. “Well, uh, Jimmy…he…um…” Stan’s eyebrows knitted, head tilting slightly as he watched Ford flounder for what to say.

“What’s wrong?” Stan laughed nervously, “I know I’m a catch, but you can’t be so picky. Heh.” Stan nudged him, getting more nervous by the second. Ford’s heart twisted as he tried and failed to manage a smile.

“N-no, it’s not that. It’s just…” Ford’s eyes lifted to Stan’s, his brother blinking in concern. “…Jimmy, he…don’t you think he’s...maybe not the best person to be in a relationship with?”

Shit. Why didn’t he just tell him about what Jimmy said? Ford mentally cursed himself, ready to try again once the time was right. But it was just so _hard_ , because Stan looked so worried, and he cared so much at what Ford thought of Jimmy…and news like this, it would be so hurtful, and he just got his happiness back, and what if Ford was wrong—

“Huh? Whuddya mean?” Stan’s eyebrows knitted, something flashing behind his eyes that was gone as quick as it came.

“W-well…he just…he seems like he’s kind of mean, Stanley. And haven’t you noticed the way he’s been doing that shoulder thing? It seems like he’s controlling you, a-and…maybe you should start considering that Jimmy isn’t as great as you think he is.” Ford shifted uncomfortably, heart double-knotting as the word vomit stopped coming. Stan stood there for a couple of seconds, and Ford realized how hurt his brother suddenly looked.

“Ford, you really just don’t know him,” Stan quickly defended, shaking his head. “He comes off strong around other people, but he’s not a bad guy at all.”

“No, Stanley, listen,” Ford argued with wide, worried eyes. “I-I know that it’s hard, but you need to think about this now before you end up getting hurt.”

“Stop the paranoia, I’m fine,” Stan ground out through his teeth, refusing to look at him as he tugged at the collar of his jacket. “I’ve been with Jimmy for months now, and I know who he is.”

“I don’t think you do—”

“Damn it, Ford, can’t I just be happy?! You can’t not trust every single person who isn’t me or Fiddleford! Jimmy _does_ care about me, no matter what you say!” Stan yelled, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Wha—? I never said Jimmy didn’t—”

“Do you think I put up with this for nothing?! You just don’t understand!”

Ford blinked at him, too surprised to find any words. Stan suddenly looked awful, eyes pinched shut as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. What…what was Stan talking about?

“But Stanley, Jimmy just—”

“Ugh, stop!” Stan waved his arms, abruptly cutting Ford off. Ford could only stare at Stan like a deer in headlights, and his brother suddenly looked very tired, dropping Ford’s gaze as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Just…leave it alone, Ford. Everything is fine.” Before Ford could manage to protest, Stan stormed away, fists clenched, and slammed the door to the shack behind him.

* * *

 

“Mmm, thanks for the bread, doll,” Jimmy managed to say through his stuffed mouth as Stan set the second loaf on the table.

“No problem,” Stan shrugged in response, smiling all the while. Hey, he was never one to cook, but when he did, it was something worth bragging about. He makes Jimmy bread one time, and then he’s getting asked for it nonstop!

“So, what’d you think of dinner? Is my brother a character or what?” Stan pulled out a chair, sitting next to his beau. _Dinner_. Ugh, just thinking about it had a sharp pain pinching behind his eyes. Ford was concerned that Jimmy was a jerk or something…ugh. He just wanted to forget about tonight’s dinner. Maybe he should stop bringing Jimmy over to the shack…but maybe that wasn’t a good idea. Ugh, he wasn’t even sure why he asked Jimmy about dinner – when had he become so…conversation-y? He was usually content with just sitting in his yellow chair and drinking a Pitt cola. Jimmy’s apartment was where he had been spending all his time now, and…well, it didn’t really seem like home. But hey, he got to be around Jimmy more than usual, and Jimmy wanted him there, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Character? Your brother is smokin’, doll.”

Stan blinked, eyes widening as he stared at Jimmy. Stan looked over his shoulder and to his left and right? Did anybody else just hear that? Did Jimmy really just say that?

“….I don’t think I heard ya right, Jim. What’d you say?” Stan chuckled nervously, although he could already feel that usual cracking of his heart every time Jimmy said something like that. He had never said anything about Ford before, but he had made some comments about other people…and Stan had his fair share of put-downs cast his way…

“I said your brother is smokin’ hot! That Fiddleford is a lucky guy.” Jimmy chuckled to himself, putting some more bread into his mouth. Stan sat there in silence, gaze burning down at the ground as his heart stung and he kept his mouth clamped shut. Even though he wanted to tell Jimmy he was being a complete _jackass_ , he didn’t because it wasn’t worth it to start a fight. This wasn’t the first shitty thing he’d ever said to him, but Stan could only hope it would be the last.

“Hey, but he sure can’t cook bread like my doll can!” Jimmy grinned, finishing off the last loaf. “Come on, we’re going for a ride. I need some more cigarettes.”

Stan managed a smile, a broken look in his eyes as he tugged at the collar of his leather jacket.


	6. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! Sorry, I've been super busy lately, but my schedule is clear now and the writing will commence! 
> 
> Things are about to get reeaal angsty around here! 
> 
> Thank you for all the bookmarks, comments, and kudos!! (Skrellogs, your comments literally make my day!! Thank you so much XD)

“Darn Stanley, you sure know how to gamble!”

  
“Yeah, you even impressed that mob boss! You’re a poker hero! And I’m still shaking from the Russian roulette - you are never doing that again!”

  
Ford and Fiddleford both burst into laughter, nudging Stan from where they walked on either side of him. Stan couldn’t help but laugh as well, and boy, did it feel weird to laugh. Tonight was the first fun night Stan had had in…well, a really long time.

  
“I told you two I’m the king of the casinos!” Stan managed a laugh, that light feeling he had missed so much finally back in his stomach. It had been a while since he’d been able to cream these two in poker – whenever he was feeling down, beating them at gambling was always his pick-me-up! He needed to do this more often!

  
“Look at all these chips he won us!” Fiddleford laughed, hooking his arm around Stan’s as he tossed some chips into the air.

  
“Ha! That’s my brother!” Ford grinned, punching Stan playfully before hooking his arms around Stan’s as well. The two men continued laughing and boasting about him besides him, and Stan found his heart twisting as a watery, sad smile appeared on his face. Damn, how he missed these nerds. It felt so good to get some appreciation, even if it was just because he may or may not have cheated them to victory at a casino. Really though, he’d have a good time with them no matter where they’d go. He missed them like hell, and that was exactly why he had snuck out tonight to go and hang out with them.

  
The minute that the three of them reached the front walk to the Shack, Stan’s heart had never felt lighter. There it was, that dumb old Shack that he missed every day. He let out a laugh before taking off down the trail, practically kicking the door open before rushing into the living room. Who knew he’d miss this old place so much! And everything was still here! He ran into the kitchen, hopped up on the chair, and practically squealed when he saw everything – even his secret stash of food - was just as he left it. He grabbed his emergency box of his favorite cereal, not even bothering with a bowl, as he collapsed into his old yellow chair.

  
For the first time in so long, he felt relaxed. Stan popped open the top of the box, and lifted to dump it into his mouth.

  
_“You’re lucky I like you, doll, because nobody else would ever want anything to do with someone as fat as you.”_

  
Stan practically dropped the cereal box, appetite flying out the window. Jimmy’s remarks about his weight were ringing through his ears as he slowly pushed away the box. Damn it. He wished it didn’t bother him as much as it did – Jimmy was only saying that so he’d make sure Stan watched his weight. He just ate, and he doesn’t need any more food. It’s not like Jimmy was wrong. Stan looked down at his stomach before rubbing his temples, his smile from earlier dropping off his face.

  
Six months he and Jimmy had been together, more or less. And sometimes, things were good. Sometimes Jimmy would hold him close and whisper sweet nothings in his ear until Stan was a blushing mess. The guy still made his heart flutter, he still made him an adoringly nervous wreck whenever he was around. He was the one who made Stan see stars on the back of his eyelids, and he was the guy who Stan had fallen hard for. Sure, Jimmy did all those things. But he could be the one to make Stan’s heart burn and feel like it was shattering. He could be the one to say words so harsh that it had Stan hating himself, because Jimmy was right about everything he said.

  
He had been feeling really frustrated and overwhelmed lately. Jimmy may be telling the truth about these things, but they were both well aware that it still hurt. And he hadn’t had much time to see his brother, and that hurt too. Things…they weren’t supposed to be like this. Stan didn’t like all these bad feelings and emotions. When Ford asked him to go out, Stan was half listening and half tiptoeing around Jimmy, who was getting drunk in the kitchen. And when Ford asked if Fiddleford could come along, Stan thought back to the blonde sitting in his kitchen getting drunk off his ass. Screw it! Jimmy wouldn’t even notice he was gone, anyways. And hanging out with the two of them again - it was wonderful and sad all at the same time. He missed them so much, and he was so happy to be back around them. And unfortunately, he couldn’t do this every day. He shouldn’t have ever taken living with those two nerds for granted, because he missed it more than he ever could’ve thought.

  
“Stanley!” Ford grinned at him as he closed the front door behind him.

  
“Heya, Sixer,” Stan replied, wiping his watery eyes on his leather sleeve.

  
“Are you saying over tonight?” Ford asked, humming as he hung his overcoat on the rack. Stan shook his head weakly, knowing he’d have to go to back to Jimmy’s before the blonde found out.

  
“Nah, I’ve gotta get back to Jimmy,” Stan tried to say casually. He hoped tonight Jimmy would be in a good mood…lately, Jimmy hadn’t been in the best of places. Everyone was stressed out, and Stan could respect that, but…it could get to be a bit much sometimes.

  
“Well…” Ford turned and smiled at Stan, a bit of a worried expression on his face. “Thank you for coming out tonight, Stanley. I…I’ve really missed you.”

  
Stan could feel his heart twisting as he managed a smile, the corners of his lips shaking. When was the last time he saw Ford before this? Was it terrible that he couldn’t really remember?

  
“I miss you too, Poindexter,” Stan replied with a sniffle. Ford wiped the edge of his eye, making Stan’s gut bubble with guilt. Here he was, making Ford upset, after all his brother had done for him.

  
_“All you ever do is make everyone’s lives a living hell.”_

  
Stan winced, able to hear the venom in Jimmy’s voice, and he sighed before running a hand through his hair.

  
“Wanna watch some TV?” Ford asked, sitting down on the couch next to him. Stan gnawed on his lower lip in contemplation. Jimmy would probably figure out where Stan said he was going was a cover if he stayed any longer…

  
“Only if we watch the Duchess Approves,” Stan cracked a grin, and Ford’s entire face lit up as he happily grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV.

“Fiddleford! Get out here, we’re watching Stan’s girly black and white channel!”

  
“Hey!” Stan laughed, playfully punching his brother in the arm. Soon enough, Fiddleford was on the other side of Ford, and Stan’s eyes dropped to Ford and Fidd’s laced hands. A slight panging hit his heart - they were so calm, so affectionate to each other. It was so different from him and Jimmy’s relationship…which one was right?

  
It’s not like his and Jimmy’s relationship was bad. Every relationship had bad parts to it. Stan wouldn’t stay in a relationship if he didn’t want to be there, and he knew this. Jimmy loved him, although they still hadn’t said it yet, and he was the only person who could ever love him. And Stan was okay with that, because he felt the exact same way. Jimmy only did these things to help him. He only did it because he cared—

  
“Stanley, would you mind opening the door?”

  
Stan snapped out of his thoughts, grumbling as he got out from underneath the warm blanket and up to the door. He glanced at the clock – it was pretty late at night, who in the hell would be around here so late? As Stan pulled open the door, the time suddenly hit him like a pile of bricks. It was late. He had fallen asleep on the couch. And now someone was at the door.

  
Wait—!

  
But it was too late. The door was already pulled open, and there he was. Stan blanched, eyes widening to the size of saucers at the darkness clouding over Jimmy’s face from where he stood in the doorway. Although the man’s face looked stormy and cold, Stan could see fire burning behind the blonde’s eyes, and he knew he was in for hell of a night tonight.

  
Nononono—

  
“Stanley? Who’s at the door?”

  
Shit. Stan stood like a deer in headlights as Ford and Fiddleford appeared behind him, both wearing the same concerned expressions. When Stan’s eyes met Fiddleford’s, he was sure that the man was flashing back to the day Jimmy crashed their dinner when they were planning for Valentine’s Day, because he suddenly looked very scared for Stan. And Stan couldn’t really blame him, because he was pretty scared for himself too.

  
Stan yelped when a big hand clasped down on his shoulder, squeezing in a bruising grip. His mouth fell open in shock, and Ford jumped and reached out a hand for him.

  
“Stanley? Are you alright—”

  
“He’s fine,” Jimmy interrupted sharply, voice dangerously level. Stan could practically hear the venom dripping from it as the blonde pulled him closer, Stan’s back now pressing against Jimmy’s chest as he began to slowly lead them both out the door. Oh shit, please, he doesn’t want to go and have this argument! Can’t Ford or Fidds save him—

  
“W-wait! Do you have to go so soon?” Fiddleford suddenly blurted, causing Ford to look at him in surprise. Stan looked at Fiddleford desperately, and the tension in the room was deafening. Stan felt like running down the street and hiding under a rock. Of course, this was the way this night had to go. Embarrassment and anxiety bubbled in the pit of his gut, and he couldn’t look at his brother or Fiddleford anymore. He hated that even when his gaze was boring into the floor, he could still practically see the worried, confused looks on their faces. He didn’t want them to worry about him. He wasn’t worth worrying about, and he didn’t deserve to have two great people like them in his life. So he looked up at them, offering the best shaky smile he could manage.

  
“R-really, guys, it’s fine,” Stan tried hard to keep the fear out of his voice. What was he afraid of? An argument? When did he become afraid? “I’ll be back soon, and we can finish the movie.”

  
“But Stanley—”

  
“I’ll see you guys soon,” Stan ground out, wincing at the shaking of his own voice, swallowing thickly before offering another tight-lipped smile. His fake act probably wasn’t doing much, because Ford and Fidds only looked more worried now then they did before. Their eyes dropped to the deathly tight grip Jimmy had on Stan, but they didn’t have long to focus on it. Jimmy cracked a grin at the two of them that sent shivers down Stan’s spine before he escorted them both out the door.

  
Stan could feel Fiddleford and Ford’s eyes on them up until the motorcycle sped out of sight.

  
Even though Stan didn’t exactly want to be close to Jimmy right now, he had to cling tight to the blonde the entire ride back, being as he was going way over the speed limit. The tension was just as high as their likelihood of getting a speeding ticket – it was so thick in the atmosphere that it felt like it was weighing down Stan’s chest. He tried to rationalize with himself – all he did was go out and see his brother and his brother’s boyfriend. Jimmy couldn’t be too mad about that. Stan snorted, shaking his head. Of course he was. And Stan was going to have to face the music.

  
Jimmy skidded the motorcycle to a halt, grabbed Stan by the wrist in a strangling grip, and yanked him off the bike. Stan clawed at his captive wrist, pained grunts escaping his throat, as Jimmy dragged him up the stairs, each footstep practically burning holes into the ground. Stan didn’t even notice Jimmy swing open the door to his apartment and then shove Stan inside the room, the brunette stumbling and nearly hitting into the wall as he hissed at the sensation of the air hitting his now bruised wrist. “Jimmy!” Stan gaped in shock, holding up his purple-tinted wrist. Really, a bruised wrist again? Jimmy stormed over to him, grabbing his injured wrist and giving it a good squeeze before harshly dropping it. What in the hell!! Stan’s teeth gritted as he glared at his beau, hands balling into fists.

  
“Well isn’t this cute,” Jimmy snarled through ground teeth, storming towards Stan as he brunette began backing up. “You had a burst of courage tonight and decided to go out and see your boyfriend?”

  
“My boyfriend?!” Stan exclaimed incredulously. “Are you kidding me?! You still think I’m into Fiddleford—”

  
“Don’t raise your voice to me!” Jimmy yelled over him, causing Stan to flinch. The blonde grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket, practically pulling him off of his feet. “After everything I did for you, this is how you repay me?!”

  
“Jimmy, I-I didn’t do anything! I just went out with my brother and his boyfriend!” Stan exclaimed desperately, struggling as he tried to get Jimmy to set him down. “R-really, I’m being honest, they just miss me and they—”

  
“Do you think anyone could ever care about you? Love you? Your dad didn’t, your mom didn’t, your brother doesn’t, and neither does that damn redneck! You know why? Because you’re a worthless piece of shit! Aren’t you?”

  
“Ford does care about—”

  
“Aren’t you?!” Jimmy shook him by his collar. “You’re worthless! You’re not worth anything, and that’s why nobody loves you! Isn’t it?”  
Stan swallowed thickly, tears pricking the edges of his eyes as he just wished Jimmy would put him down already. His heart was twisting, because he knew exactly what Jimmy wanted him to say. His father’s words rang throughout his ears like a bell, perfectly tying to what Jimmy was saying.

  
“Y-yeah,” Stan dropped his head, a couple of tears threading to fall as his gaze burned into the ground.

  
“Yeah what?” Jimmy shook him again, causing his vision to shake along with it.

  
“Yeah I’m worthless,” Stan whispered, a few tears flittering down his cheeks as he blinked. “Of course I know that.”

  
“And yet, you still don’t listen to me, the one person who cares about you!” Jimmy dropped him to his feet, causing Stan to stumble backwards. He propped himself against the wall, quickly wiping the hot tears away from his eyes and trying to get control over the burning feeling in his chest.

  
“I’m not even surprised you were seeing him the whole time. No wonder why you were cryin’ so hard when I told you not to see him anymore.”

  
“Jimmy, please, I’m not—”

  
“Oh you’re damn right you’re not. I’m not letting you near him ever again. This is the lasting fucking time you disobey me, and I’m going to make sure that you never do it again,” Jimmy hissed, snatching Stan’s injured wrist in his hand before pinning Stan against the wall so he couldn’t escape. Stan’s heart raced in his chest, and for the first time, he felt genuine fear.

  
“W-what do you—”

  
“I want you moving out of there,” Jimmy growled, voice threateningly low. “I want all your shit packed up and out of there by the end of the day tomorrow. You’re moving in here with me.”

  
“Wha—? That’s my house!” Stan blurted, the idea of moving out of the Shack causing horror to sweep through his body.

  
“Not anymore,” Jimmy hissed, squeezing his wrist. Stan let out a strangled gasp at the pain, sure his wrist must be broken by now. A surge of anger and defiance rushed through him as he looked at Jimmy’s big hand around his wrist. Why was he putting up with this? Jimmy couldn’t make him move out of the one place he called home! He didn’t have a right to keep him away from his friend, or his house, or his brother!

  
“I don’t want to, and I’m not going to!” Stan yelled suddenly, causing Jimmy’s eyes to widen. Stan shoved Jimmy off of him, jabbing him in the chest. “And if you don’t like it, then you can—”

  
Stan suddenly went fumbling back, eye throbbing fiercely as stars flashed in front of his vision. It took a second for it to register what had happened, but when it did, his eyes widened in shock. Jimmy had punched him.

  
Jimmy had punched him.

  
Stan slowly took a step backwards, gaping at Jimmy with huge eyes as the blonde glared at him. Stan had no idea what to do, or what in the world had just happened, but his gut was twisting in shocked horror. Jimmy hit him. The guy fricking hit him. Jimmy, the guy who saved him from getting hit the first time they met, they guy who was supposed to care about him. Stan couldn’t keep the raw hurt emotion out of his eyes, a shaky hand coming up and touching his throbbing eye.

  
"Stan…” Jimmy huffed, anger seeming to dissolve into guilty frustration as he took a step towards Stan. The brunette instantly jerked backwards, tripping over his own feet and falling on his butt. He looked up at Jimmy, feeling helpless and hurt and exposed, as his beau knelt down next to him.

  
“Baby doll…” Jimmy said softly, that usual softness that had been absent more and more lately present in his eyes. Stan shook his head, a lump in his throat as he looked away. He nearly jumped when he felt a big hand turning his chin, forcing Stan to look at him.  
“Baby doll, I’m sorry that you made me punch you,” Jimmy said gently, causing Stan’s eyes to widen in alarm.

  
“Did you just say that I–”

  
“I had to teach you a lesson, you won’t listen to me,“ Jimmy said firmly. "Think about all the times I’ve tried to help you and you don’t listen to me. You know I only do these things because I care.”

  
"Jimmy…” Stan’s voice cracked, and he winced. “I-I…this isn’t–”

  
“I don’t want to have to do this again. I love you, baby doll,“ Jimmy said softly, scratching underneath Stan’s chin. Stan’s eyes widened, breathing caught in his throat and butterflies exploding in his stomach as Jimmy said the three words Stan had been dying to hear for half of an entire year.

  
“Y-you do?” Stan whispered, blinking away his shock.

  
“Of course I do, doll. That’s why I had to hurt you,” Jimmy said, and Stan only flinched a little when Jimmy leaned in and pecked a kiss to his lips. He loved him. Jimmy Snakes said he loved him. Stan had kept telling himself that Jimmy did love him, but a small part of him doubted a little. But he said it. The throbbing in Stan’s eyes suddenly was thrown to the back of his mind as Jimmy’s words took center stage. He remembered those soft hands steadying him in the bar on that first night, that first kiss on that rainy night in the back of the Stanley Mobile, that night in the bar on Valentine’s Day and the night in Jimmy’s bedroom afterwards. He looked into the the green eyes in front of him, and his heart practically exploded as Jimmy’s confession hit him full force, and he wasn’t able to do anything besides stare with a slightly gaping jaw.

  
“This is no big deal, doll. You do feel the same way, don’t you?” Jimmy raised an eyebrow, Stan missing the winning gleam in his eyes.  
“Y-yeah,” Stan said quietly, cheeks glowing red. “Yeah. I do.”

  
“Then this doesn’t matter, and you understand why I did what I did,” Jimmy said firmly. “And you understand why you’re going to move out of the Shack.”

  
“J-Jim…” Stan shook his head weakly. “I don’t want to–”

  
“Stanley,” Jimmy said sharply, causing Stan to wince. “It’s the end of the discussion. You can go and get your stuff tomorrow. But for tonight…”

  
Stan opened his mouth to try and protest, eye suddenly throbbing again, but Jimmy silenced him with his lips against his. Stan kissed back hesitantly, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach and continue this discussion. But there really was no concentrating as Jimmy grabbed him tighter by the collar of his jacket, this time kissing him harder instead of lifting him off the ground.  
There was nothing Stan could do. There was no going against Jimmy.

 

* * *

 

  
Ford sat on the couch of the Mystery Shack, leg bouncing as he glanced over at the wine cabinet. It had taken all of his strength not to open it up and start that old habit again - drinking used to be his answer to dealing with stress, but he couldn’t afford to open up that can of worms again. Really, it would just make things worse. And Ford didn’t even know how bad things really were.  
The day Stanley came and moved his stuff out of the Mystery Shack was the day that Ford had felt more down than he had in a very long time. The day was already a gloomy rainy one, clouds thick and grey and low in the sky. But nothing else really mattered besides a very glum Stan, dragging all of his stuff into a bag and barely speaking a word before throwing his suitcases into the Stanley mobile. Ford couldn’t see his brother’s expression - Stan had sunglasses on for some reason, but he was sure his brother looked as miserable as he was acting.

  
Stan moving out…it felt like the end of something. Stan and Ford had always lived together, always been at each other’s sides. Except for when Ford went to college, they had never been apart for this long. And Ford didn’t want to lose his brother - and he knew something was wrong here.

  
And he had a terrible feeling it had to do with Jimmy.

  
Two months passed. A whole two months of Ford worrying and worrying over his brother, trying and trying to call him to get a stuttered out, quick apology before abruptly getting hung up on. He hadn’t seen Stan in two months, and he waited for that doorbell to ring every day. What in the world was going on? All he knew was, he was terribly worried, and he hoped his brother was okay.  
Ford ran a hand through his hair before opening up the wine cabinet. He hesitated only a second before grabbing a big bottle of scotch, staring into his reflection in the glass. He wondered if Stan looked as terrible as he did right now. Was Ford a terrible brother for not knowing what was going on with Stan? He tried, he tried to call and if he knew where Jimmy lived he’d go there, but there was nothing else he could do! All he wanted was for Stan to be okay–

  
The ringing of the doorbell snapped Ford away from his thoughts. His heart leapt into his throat, praying it was his brother, as he dropped the bottle and ran over to the door.

  
“Stanley–”

  
Ford pulled open the door, and his voice instantly cut out when he saw his brother. He could only stand there in utter shock, eyes glued in horror to Stan’s face.

  
His brother was standing in the doorway, hands jammed in his pockets and head dropped, a couple of banged-up suitcases dropped at his sides. Ford’s eyes were glued to his brother’s face, because behind Stan’s dark sunglasses, he could see it. He could see various black and blue rings around his brother’s eyes, some healed and some fresh. Things seemed to move in slow motion as he noticed finger marks on Stan’s neck, a faint five-star on his cheek, bruises on his body, one of his fingers in a splint and one the opposite wrist in a makeshift cast.

  
“Stanley…” Ford whimpered desperately, shaking hands gently coming to either side of Stan’s shoulders. “…What happened to you?”  
Stan didn’t say anything, refusing to look up at Ford as his gaze burned a hole through his sunglasses and into the ground. Ford looked on either side of Stan, and it registered to him that today, Jimmy hadn’t tagged along to come over. Ford’s eyes dropped to the suitcases at Stan’s sides, and then back to the abrasions on his brother’s body.

  
And then everything clicked into place.

  
“Oh….oh, no….” Ford felt his throat close up, tears pricking the edges of his eyes. This was Stanley standing in his doorway. His twin brother, the other half of their dynamic duo, his best friend. Here he was, beaten and abused and shaking from the cold rain on his doorstep, unable to pick his head up and look him in the eye.

  
“St-Stanford, I-I…I…can I come inside?” Stan sniffled, hands clenching into fists as his eyes bore holes in the ground. Ford’s bottom lip began shaking as he tried to summon something to say, but he could only watch with owlish eyes as Stan began tugging at the collar of his leather jacket. Stan began sniffling, hands shaking as he began trying to tear the zipper down, but he was too panicky, and he knocked off the sunglasses, lifting hurt and panicked eyes to look at his brother.

  
“ _Stanford_ ,” he pleaded, “I—”

  
In record time, Ford threw his arms around Stan, and the other man weakly hugged him back. He wasn’t sure what in the world was going on, but he was praying this isn’t from what he thought it was. If it was…what he thought…what was he supposed to do? He’d have to do something! Oh goodness, what if this wasn’t the first time this had happened? What if—

  
“Stanley, you have to tell me what happened,” Ford sat his brother down in his favorite yellow chair, and Stan winced before sitting down, letting out a sigh of relief before sinking back into it. He began messing with the zipper to his jacket again, and Ford noticed Stan’s fingers faintly shaking as he finally tore it down and shrugged the leather off. This was the first time he had seen Stan without that jacket in so long…and this was the first time he had seen Stan in a long time as well.

  
“Take this,” Stan glanced at the jacket before tossing it to Ford, who nodded and instantly got it out of sight. Ford sat across from his brother, eyes desperately pleading as he tried to keep the tears out of his eyes.

“ _Stanley_ ,” his voice broke off at the end, causing Stan to look at him in saddened guilt.

“It was my fault,” he mumbled, eyes dropping to his hands. Ford blinked in surprise, because Stan couldn’t really think that, could he? He didn’t deserve to be hurt by anyone, especially not someone who was supposed to love him!

“You didn’t deserve to get abused, Stanley,” Ford gaped incredulously.

“I’m not getting _abused_ …” Stan muttered, scratching the back of his head.

“Was this the first time that he’s hurt you?” Ford asked, really hoping that Stan would say this was the only time it’s ever happened. If Ford found out that over these past months Stan had been in trouble, and he hadn’t been there for him…he’d never forgive himself.

Stan didn’t say anything, picking at the seams of his undershirt in a tense silence. Ford’s stomach sunk as it hit him that that probably meant this wasn’t the first time. Getting a better look, he could see some of Stan’s wounds were beginning to heal, while others were new.

“You know you can’t stay with someone who does this to you,” Ford said softly, causing Stan’s eyes to snap to his.

“He only does it to help me,” Stan defended, looking away as Ford’s jaw dropped.

“There’s no excuse for this! He doesn’t do this to help you, he does it to hurt you! Because Jimmy is a _bad person_ and he doesn’t care about anyone but himself. And he’s going to end up getting you really, really hurt,” Ford said desperately. “I—”

“Ford, just…” Stan rubbed his temples, sniffling audibly, “C-can we just not do this right now? I-I’m really tired…”

Ford had never seen his brother look so…broken before. His skin boiled, because Jimmy was the one who made Stan feel like this. And he was damn sure that Stan wasn’t going back to that guy ever again.

Three days came and went quickly, and Ford now was able to see how differently Stan was acting. His brother was much quieter, and never really spoke unless spoken to anymore. He looked a lot smaller – Ford would come into the living room to see his brother curled up on the couch, trying to take up as little space as possible. Stanley didn’t really seem to make eye contact anymore, as if he were constantly lying or avoiding a question. Where had his obnoxious, brash brother gone? What had Jimmy done to him?

“Ford?”

On a rainy day, Ford looked up from his desk to see a panicked-looking Fiddleford standing in his doorway. He set his work down, concernedly raising an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“Yes, Fiddleford? What’s wrong?” he asked in confusion.

“It’s Stanley…he—”

“Stanley? Is he okay?” Ford asked concernedly, standing up from his desk.

“He just left with Jimmy,” Fiddleford said helplessly. “He put the jacket back on, and he got on the motorcycle with him and left!”

“What?!” Ford gasped in horror, rushing over to the window. Both men were out of sight, but he could hear the faint roaring of a motorcycle engine in the distance. Damn it! Why did Stan have to be such a stubborn guy? Why would he go back to someone who deliberately hurts and abuses him?

“Oh no, this is a disaster! Stan can’t go back to Jimmy again, he’ll just end up getting hurt! And now I have no idea where he—”

“Well, I _may have_ gone through Stan’s wallet and found an address,” Fiddleford flashed a hopeful smile to Ford, handing him over a piece of paper. Ford looked down at it, eyes widening at the address and apartment number. He knew this was right instantly by what Stan had told him back when he had first been to Jimmy’s place.

Ford grabbed himself a coat, taking a deep breath as he began putting on his shoes.

“Where are you going?” Fiddleford asked, following Ford to the door.

“I’m going to end this once and for all,” Ford said firmly, glancing at the address again before closing the door behind him.


	7. Final Straw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took so long for an update - but I'm back with an angsty and slightly violent new update! Thank you all so much for all the comments (i read each and every one of them and they're what motivate me, I am so thankful) and for the kudos!! <33

The wall rattled around Stan as he was slammed against it, the force of being punched sending him practically straight through it. Shit. He touched his hand to his nose, which was now bleeding. Stan swallowed the thick lump in his throat, entire body shaking as he forced himself to lift his eyes and look at Jimmy. Like usual, he winced at how cold and unforgiving his beau looked, and he racked his brain desperately to try and figure out what it was that got Jimmy so mad today. Maybe there was a way he could fix what he did wrong…there had to be, didn’t there? Oh, who was he kidding, there was _nothing_ he could do, not when Jimmy was like this. He just had to wait it out and hope Jimmy wasn’t feeling too violent today. Soon he would calm down, and— 

“ _Hot Belgian waffles!_ ” Stan yelped as he was slapped hard across the face, Jimmy’s big hand leaving a stinging five-star across his cheek. His jaw was burning, and he faintly hoped Jimmy didn’t knock out a tooth or something as he leaned against the wall for support.

“ _Stanley_. Look at me!”

Stan stopped trying to catch his breath as he looked up at Jimmy, and was instantly punched again in the eye. He swore under his breath, because his right eye had just healed, and now he was sure to have another black eye. He felt so woozy, and the entire world was spinning, and he just felt so sick inside. This relationship didn’t feel fluffy and happy and bright anymore. He almost hated himself for loving Jimmy at this point, but there was nothing he could do to turn off that feeling. He kept trying to tell himself there were good times, that Jimmy _said_ he loved him and he _proved_ he loved him all the time, but it was hard to try and remember that as he was thrown around like a rag doll.

“Stanley!” Jimmy yanked him over, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him off his feet. Jimmy was yelling something, but Stan’s ears were ringing as he squeezed his eyes shut and bit down so hard on his bottom lip he drew blood, eyes filling to the brim with tears.

 Why did this have to be so hard? Why was Jimmy doing this to him? He couldn’t fight back – he didn’t have it in him to fight Jimmy. He couldn’t hurt the guy he loved, but how could Jimmy do it so easily? He flashed to Ford and Fiddleford – those two were affectionate and sweet and caring, not anything like this. Was his relationship really so unhealthy? His train of thought was cut off as he was slapped again, and he suddenly didn’t have it in him anymore to do anything but beg.

 “J-Jimmy I’m sorry!” Stan wailed, trying to squirm out of Jimmy’s grasp. “I-I didn’t mean to do whatever I did! P-please, just let me go!”

 “You know, you’re so fucking pathetic,” Jimmy snorted, hand weaving into Stan’s hair and yanking. “You wouldn’t be able to last five seconds in the real world without me.”

 “I-I—”

 “You know what, Stanley?” Jimmy dropped him flatly, causing Stan to drop to the ground. “Go for a drive or something, I don’t care. I can’t even look at you anymore. Just be back by dinner so you can finally make me some damn bread.”

 “A-alright,” Stan backed away from Jimmy, arms up defensively as he took cautious steps towards the door. This was how some fights usually ended – Jimmy simply getting bored and telling Stan to get out of the apartment for a while. Stan would usually end up going on an aimless drive before coming back, and Jimmy was back to acting like nothing had happened in an alarmingly quick amount of time.

 “Pathetic,” Jimmy mumbled, shaking his head as he snatched a beer from the counter. He cracked it open before sitting down on the couch, and Stan thanked his lucky stars that this fight was over as he practically raced out the door.

 Stan slammed the door shut to his car before pulling out of the driveway, feeling panicked and practically in a frenzy as he drove as far away as he could from the apartment complex. He was always feeling paranoid Jimmy was chasing him these days – who knows what that’s about. His jaw and eye and nose were throbbing and basically his whole body felt like it was on fire as he finally pulled over to the side of the road, the tears that he refused to let fall clouding his vision.

 He wiped his nose, a bloody streak staining his damn leather jacket, as he finally dropped his head against the steering wheel and began to cry.

 

* * *

 

 

Ford stormed up the stairs to the Jimmy’s apartment complex, stomping down the hallway until he reached the door he was looking for. _Finally_ , after all this time, he’d finally be able to give Jimmy a piece of his mind! From the moment he first met that guy, he had a bad feeling about him. And of course he tried to ignore that feeling, being as Stanley was so head-over-heels for the guy, but there was no ignoring it anymore.

Ford rubbed his temples in frustration just thinking about Stan’s unconditional love for Jimmy. How could that asshole break his brother’s heart like this? How could he take Stanley’s love and just throw it right back in his face? Stan had a rough childhood – they both did – and feelings of worthlessness were so present in Stan it was painful. Jimmy was supposed to make up for that, he was supposed to have Stan feeling loved and adored, and instead…instead he was feeling more pathetic than ever.

 Ford paused as he glanced at the room number on the paper, then at the matching one on the door in front of him. His hand wrapped around the doorknob, but he hesitated for a second. What was he going to do? He hadn’t really planned out what he was going to say, which may have been a wise thing to do in perspective. Ford’s mind suddenly flashed to Stan in the doorway, beaten and shaking and tugging desperately at the collar of that damn leather jacket, and red flashed in front of his vision. There was no way Jimmy would get away with doing this to his brother.

 Ford curtly knocked on the door, three sharp knocks before he folded his hands behind his back and glared at the door. He heard some stumbling from the inside, and a part of him really hoped that Stan would be the one to open the door, because maybe he could convince him to leave. Stan was a pretty hard-headed guy, and Ford knew probably the hardest part would be getting his brother out of there. Because there was no way he’d leave Stan with this monster for another night.

 It took about five minutes of grunting and stumbling from the other side before the door finally opened, and Ford took a step back as it was harshly swung open.

 “So, you decided to come back so soon,” Jimmy crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow in a condescending smirk. “You just couldn’t stay—”

 Jimmy cut himself off as he squinted, staring at Ford in confusion. It took a disgusting amount of time for him to realize that this was Ford in the doorway, not Stanley, and Ford glared at him in revulsion.

 “Six Fingers,” Jimmy said in surprise, looking Ford up and down. He paused before an easy grin came to his face, and he leaned against the doorframe. “What’dya want, babe?”

 “It’s _Stanford_ to you,” Ford snapped sharply.

 “Oh?” Jimmy smirked, raising an eyebrow. Ford’s blood boiled at how patronizing he was, and he leaned over and tried to get a look into the apartment.

 “Where’s Stanley? Is he okay?” Ford demanded.

 When Jimmy just smirked at him, Ford didn’t hesitate to push past him, and for the first time, he got a look at where his brother had been staying. Stan’s stuff was by a doorway, still in its suitcases, but other than that, it didn’t even look like he lived here. It was pretty smoky inside, and Ford could see cigarettes weakly burning in an ashtray, which was next to an accumulating pile of empty beer bottles. This place was _not_ Stanley’s home – the Shack was, and Ford was bringing him back today.

 “Stanley?” Ford called impatiently, foot tapping as he stood in the middle of the living room. “Stanley, I—”

 “He’s not here right now, Six Fingers,” Jimmy said easily, causing Ford to wheel around to face him.

 “What? Where is he?” Ford blinked, standing his ground even though a nervous feeling was beginning to develop in his gut. Maybe he should’ve brought Fiddleford along or something…

 “That doesn’t really matter, does it? Seems like you came here to speak to me,” Jimmy picked up a cigarette and took a long drag off of it. Ford’s eyes dropped to Jimmy’s knuckles, which were faintly speckled in blood. He paled, anger and fear washing over him like a river.

 “Listen, Jimmy,” Ford hissed through clenched teeth, “I know exactly what you’ve been doing to my brother, and you’ve messed with him for the last time! If you bothered to get to know Stanley at all, then you’d know that he has a self-worth complex, and you’re using that to hurt him! How could you just take his love and use it to abuse him?”

 “Listen, Six Fingers, I don’t do anything to Stan that he doesn’t deserve,” Jimmy said flatly, causing Ford’s hands to curl so tight into fists they drew blood.

 “He does _not_ deserve to get abused, especially not by the person who’s supposed to love him!” Ford yelled.

 “Oh please,” Jimmy rolled his eyes, “If you cared about Stan as much as you claim you do, then you would’ve come over here a lot sooner than just now.”

 “I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt! I had no idea that you were hurting Stan!” Ford exclaimed furiously, taking a step closer to Jimmy. “Do _not_ question me caring about Stanley, he’s my brother and I’d do anything to help him! You hardly even know him, and what you do know, you use it for your own selfish gain!”

 Ford went to swing at Jimmy, but Jimmy grabbed Ford by the wrist, dragging him closer and pulling him tight against him. Ford looked up at Jimmy with wide eyes, jaw dangling in disgust as terrifying thoughts ran through his mind. What in the hell was Jimmy _doing_?

 “You know, I always thought you were the hot one, Six Fingers,” Jimmy purred, free hand clasping around Ford’s lower back and pulling him closer against him. Ford yelped, face flushing as he tried to struggle away from him. “And as luck would have it, you and I are all alone here.”

 “Y-you’re disgusting!” Ford yelled, free hand pushing desperately at Jimmy’s chest as his mind began to spin. “How _dare you_ do this to Stanley!! He loves you, you asshole!”

 “Stan’s not gonna know, and even if he did, he’d never be able to leave me,” Jimmy mumbled with a grin, flipping them so Ford was pressed against the wall. “You may make me out to be the bad guy here, but Stan hasn’t left me for a reason.

 “It’s because he thinks you love him,” Ford growled. “Our stupid father messed him up about his self-worth, and he thinks that since you show him the slightest amount of false affection, that means you love him. And all Stanley’s ever wanted is someone to love him! Why is that so damn hard for you to do?”

 “He wouldn’t last a second in the real world without me,” Jimmy scoffed. “I don’t know how he got by before we met.”

 “He was just _fine_ before he met you,” Ford spat. “He was _better_ before he met you! Do you have any idea how bad you’ve hurt him!? How bad you _continue to_ hurt him?”

 “He’s _fine_ ,” Jimmy hissed, grabbing Ford by the shoulders. “And you’re not gonna tell him anything.”

 “ _Fuck you_ ,” Ford spat, trying to struggle away again. Jimmy merely laughed, and he tilted his head like he was going to lean in and kiss him. Ford completely forgot that this guy was two times his own size and probably six times stronger. All he could focus on was this was his brother’s boyfriend – his brother’s _abuser_ – who was trying to put the moves on him. He kneed Jimmy hard in the stomach, shoving him backwards and off of him. Jimmy made a noise of surprise, bent over for a second, before he sucked in a breath through his teeth and glared harshly at Ford.

 “You’re gonna regret that, Six Fingers,” Jimmy growled, grabbing Ford by the shoulders and slamming him back against the wall. Ford winced as pain exploded in his shoulder blades, and the fact that Jimmy probably made Stan feel this scared on a regular basis made red flash in front of Ford’s vision.

 “Whether you like it or not, I’m not letting Stan near you ever again!” Ford hissed, stomping down hard on Jimmy’s foot. Jimmy backed off again for a second, swearing under his breath, before he barked out a laugh.

 “I don’t give a crap about what you do!” Jimmy laughed harshly, “No matter what you pull, Stan’s _always_ gonna come back to me because he’s _pathetic_ and he thinks I’m the only person who cares about him!  I can do whatever I want to him because _he’s mine_ and I control him—”

 Jimmy stumbled backwards as Ford’s fist met his face, and his eyebrows rose up into his hairline in complete shock. Ford took a step closer to Jimmy with his hands balled into fists, ready to fight this asshole to the death if he has to. How _dare he_! How dare he think that he owns Stanley! How dare—

 Ford yelped as he was suddenly grabbed by the wrist and lifted off the ground. He clawed at Jimmy’s bruising hand around his wrist, looking at Jimmy with unimaginable fury.

 “You made a mistake coming here, Six Fingers,” Jimmy hissed, “And just like your brother, I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson.”

 Ford watched with wide eyes as Jimmy raised his hand, fingers balled into a fist. There was no way he was getting out of this punch – but once Jimmy got the first hit in, he sure as hell was going to counter it. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact. Stanley probably felt this afraid every day, and that was all that mattered to Ford. He’d fight this guy if it meant saving his brother. Stanley didn’t deserve this, not from the person who he loved, not from anyone. Especially not from Jimmy, and oh crap, this guy is gonna hit him….

 Wait.

 Why hasn’t he hit him yet?

 One second, the fist was flying at him, arm on fire and nerves going wild, and then the next second, everything was still. Ford slowly opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Jimmy’s wide eyes. Ford’s eyes trailed to the doorway, and then he saw what Jimmy was gaping at.

_Stanley_ was in the doorway, jaw dropped and eyes as wide as saucers. He looked at Jimmy, and then his eyes slowly trailed from Jimmy’s hand in the air, ready to punch, to Ford, who was being held up by the arm. Ford was too busy focused on Stan’s bloody nose and newly-blackened eye to realize that his brother was in complete and utter shock at the scene in front of him.

And then he and Stanley locked eyes, and it was like everything clicked for both of them.

 It clicked to Stanley that Jimmy was attacking his brother.

 And it was like ten months worth of fire exploded in Stanley’s eyes.


	8. Breaking Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left after this one! Thank you all for all your comments and kudos, they mean everything to me!! 
> 
> Warnings of abuse and violence in this one
> 
> And although this fic may be ending, I was kind of thinking about doing a Stanchez recovery sequel (Stan, Fidds, and Ford may or may not go full Mystery Trio and be working on the portal)…*suspicious laughter*

Stan’s feet were dragging as he trudged down the hallway, half sniffling from the cold outside air and half testing to make sure his nose wasn’t broken. Thankfully he could breathe – it’s not like he could afford hospital bills these days. He glanced down at his haphazardly-wrapped wrist, letting out a desolate sigh. Yeesh, he thought he was feeling down when he was in the bar on the night he first met Jimmy…look at him now.

That thought instantly had his lips pursing, his hands clenching into fists. You know what he didn’t have back then? He didn’t have Jimmy. And he had the guy now, and he seemed to keep forgetting how amazing and special that is. Jimmy may be kind of an asshole sometimes, but he’s still _Jimmy_. He’s still the blonde guy with the warm green eyes and the adorably possessive touches and the honey-sweet voice. He cared about and loves Stan, and he knew that – he forced himself to know that, being as that had been his mantra lately.

As he neared the front door, he forced himself to think about all of his and Jimmy’s good times, reminding himself that there _were_ in fact good times. The ghost of a smile crossed his face as he fondly remembered the second time he ever hung out with Jimmy. He whooped his biker pals’ asses at poker, a cigar between his teeth as he literally was sitting in Jimmy’s lap and blushing like a maniac. See, there were good times. He just tended to forget them a lot lately, is all.

A sudden burst of defiance rushed through him, causing him to stand up straighter. He’s Stanley Pines! He always could make something work, if he wasn’t being a lazy ass and he actually wants it enough! And he could make this work with Jimmy. What happened tonight, it was just an accident. It was just a temper lashing – everyone had bad days. Jimmy was upset that Stan left for a few days because he missed him so much, because he cared and didn’t want anything bad happening to him. Let’s be honest, Stan deserved it for staying away for so long. He could’ve been dead, and Jimmy wouldn’t have even known! His heart warmed a bit at the thought of Jimmy missing him, and he weakly nodded to himself. Yes, that was it. He was just worried. He just cared.

Stan already was trying to summon a smile to his lips as he wrapped his hand around the doorknob and opened up.

_Jimmy loves you, Stan. That’s enough to smile about. That’s enough to—_

Stan’s eyebrows knitted, his lips parting slightly in confusion. He opened his mouth to say something – he isn’t exactly sure what – but the words died in his throat as the scene in front of him began to register. He tilted his head, and everything seemed to go in slow motion, the color flashing from normal to inverted every couple of seconds, as his eyes landed on Jimmy. The blonde was staring back at him, green eyes wide and bushy eyebrows raising up onto his forehead. Stan focused on Jimmy’s fist, reeled back in mid-punch, and his mouth went dry. Stan tried to swallow, but his throat is closed up as, first, his eyes landed on the discoloration around his boyfriend’s eye. He can still see the knuckle indents where it’s swelling and turning a blackish purple. Five knuckle indents.

His eyes snapped over to the person next to Jimmy. The person Jimmy had pinned against the wall, his free hand keeping him there now loosely by their throat. The person had their hand up as well, ready to throw a punch.

The person was _Ford_.

Everything was dead quiet.

He couldn’t hear any thoughts in his head, couldn’t hear anything at all.

Stan’s eyes bounced between the six-fingered hand, shaking in the air as he held it up in a fist, to the angry, scared brown eyes of his twin brother. He saw the full scene in front of him. Jimmy had Ford by the arm in the air, both about to punch each other. Jimmy had a black eye from a six-fingered hand. Ford…the wrist Jimmy was holding him up by…it looked like it wasn’t right. Like it was bruised and _dislocated_ , and suddenly, Stan felt very, very sick.

No. No. Nonono, _fuck no_ , this wasn’t happening. This was not happening.

Stan’s eyes locked with Ford’s, with the furious and fearful and worried eyes, and it dawns on Stan that Ford isn’t looking at _him_ , he’s looking at Stan’s newly punched nose and five-stared cheek. _That’s_ what he cared about. Stan flashed back to those same brown eyes, tears clouding them as a small, young Ford tried to stifle sobs, cleaning the wounds on Stan’s back with shaky hands. Stan was all Ford ever cared about. And he knows this now, because Ford sees Stan’s expression and suddenly looks petrified.

Jimmy. He’s just standing there, frozen. Looking at Stan with the same eyes Stan could get drunk on looking at. He’s so frozen his fist doesn’t even drop from where he holds it in the air, directed at his brother.

Jimmy’s fist is directed at his brother.

_He cares about and loves you. He cares about and loves you. He cares about and loves you_.

Usually, when Stan and Jimmy fight, his vision flashes in front of him, and he’s back in the bar on the first night, or in the backseat of the Stanley mobile or in the bar on Valentine’s Day or has blonde hair tickling his nose in bed. He flashes to the good times, and they’re what keep him there, they’re what remind and demand he believes that Jimmy Snakes is the guy he bumped into on that first night, the knight in shining armor who he got blessed with and who makes him realize he’s not worthless after all.

But as he stands in the doorway, jaw dropped and eyes as wide as dinner plates, everything flashes like it usually does. He expects to see himself in the bar, miserably nursing a beer and crying before getting up and fatefully smashing into a big blonde man who takes his breath away.

 Instead, he’s in the doorway of Pines Pawns.

The quiet around him is replaced with high-pitched pleas, with a furiously grumbling voice and a shaky defiant one. He has to really focus, but suddenly, they all come into view, and he can hear them perfectly.

“You’d better back off, or you’re gonna regret it!!” the gap-toothed brunette boy – Stanley – yelled, shoving his brother behind him and taking a step closer to his father, tiny hands balled into fists and a wicked glare on his freckled face. He can still remember the defiance he had felt standing up to the cold eyes hidden behind sleek sunglasses, the way his heart nervously hammered yet burned so hard, because he could not and _would not_ take this anymore. Ford’s high-pitched voice was begging him to stop, small six-fingered hands desperately tugging at Stan’s arms and trying to pull him away. But _no_ , he was not moving, because Filbrick had been about to hit Ford. And after all the crap he pulled on them, hurting Ford took it too far, and Stan wouldn’t have it.

Filbrick’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, hand still in the air from when he was going to bring it down on Ford. His brother looked horrified, quickly sputtering out desperate pleas for Stan to go away, that it was his fault and he deserved it and Stan needed to get out of here. Stan growled at him to _never_ say that again, that this was _bullshit_ and they weren’t taking another minute of this.

Stan stood in the doorway, heart in his throat because he knew exactly what was coming next. He was nine years old, and he thought he could protect them. He was only nine. He had knocked out his front tooth trying to unchain and steal a bike from the playground, he had skinned his knee trying to drag the Stan-O-War into the water, and he was just a little _kid_. He almost whimpered, clutching at the fabric of his leather jacket in a deathlike grip, eyes stormy and stomach twisting.

And even though Stan continued standing in the doorway, he remembered. The belt had come down on him, and he had taken it in stride, because he would rather it be him than his brother.

From where Stan stood, the world began to flash again, and he was sent through tons of different memories of his father taking his anger out on him. Abuse was something he was used to – something he had grown up with. Stan knew it was abuse when his father did it – and he leaned against the doorway dizzily. Jimmy…he did the same…

Stan saw a quick flash of Ford protesting going to West Coast Tech – his brother wasn’t going to go without him – he was so excited, but he pretended he wasn’t, pretended he was fine with staying here and sticking with his futureless brother. Stan was okay with that at first. But he finally told Ford it was oaky, finally told him to go and follow his dreams. The day Ford left for college, it hurt more than anything else he had experienced so far.

Stan flashed to a cold alley – one that was terribly familiar to him. Of course it was – Stan looked across the alley to see Rico and his gang, all crowded around a very scared looking man who was barely out of his twenties. Stan. His jaw set as he looked at the group of guys – they were all good-for-nothing con artists, and he hadn’t even owed them anything he wasn’t going to pay back….eventually! He had gotten into the wrong crowd after he was left homeless, jobless, and completely broke. He was living out of his car, he was starving…he needed to do _something_. So, he had gotten involved with some shady people. And like everyone else, they abused him. He fought back – his knuckles were permanently scared from all the fights he got into. But it never seemed to be enough. They’d beat him within an inch of his life, hustle him and steal his hard-earned money. He carried a baseball bat with him everywhere (he still keeps one in the shack), because who knows the next time they’d break into his motel room or car and throw him into another trunk he’d have to chew his way out of.

And as he watched those guys kick the living shit out of him, he remembered thinking to himself not too long ago, “Hey, I’ve been through worse. Compared to those guys on the street, what Jimmy’s doing is nothing!” But…it wasn’t supposed to be a contest! How had he become so numb to this?! Jimmy wasn’t supposed to be as bad as them—!

A quick image of Ford finding him on the beach in Louisiana flashed in front of his eyes. Thank goodness that Ford found him and brought him back to Gravity Falls with him, because he wouldn’t have been able to survive the lifestyle he had been leading up to that point. Stan smiled warmly at the image of him, Ford, and Fiddleford lounging around in the Mystery Shack. He had been happy. He had been healing.

And then he met Jimmy.

Stan was in the exact same doorway he was standing in in real life. Only, this was a couple weeks ago. He watched, feeling dizzy and nauseous, and Jimmy hit him hard across the face. Stan, he was…he was practically bawling his eyes out. He was shaking and wailing and begging him to just please stop, he would never do what he did to make him mad ever again, that he was so sorry and he loved him and didn’t want him to be upset.

It slowly hit him all at once.

His father, that gang, _Jimmy_ …

They were all abusers.

Jimmy was an _abuser_.

He wasn’t doing this because he loved him. He wasn’t doing this because Stan needed someone to keep him in line for his own good. He wasn’t doing this because he cared. He didn’t care anything about him. Nobody would do this to someone they cared about – nobody would be right there next to all the other people who hurt him in his life. And Stan _knew_ this – he knew it all along! He just wanted someone to care, and Jimmy was _supposed to care_. So Stan made the excuses, he tried to just convince himself that it was all because Jimmy cared, because he wanted him to care so badly. Stan? He loved Jimmy. He fucking loved Jimmy. That was another reason why he wanted Jimmy to care.

But Jimmy? No, he didn’t love Stan, because nobody hurts the person they love intentionally like this. Nobody degrades them and tells them who to be friends with and makes them wear a fucking leather jacket all the time and makes them move out and punches them and hits them and keeps them from their family and tells them they’re worthless. Not somebody who loves them.

Stan flashed back to the present, where he sees Jimmy standing like a deer in headlights, still holding a fist to his brother. His eyes meet Jimmy’s, and he _knows_.

_Jimmy doesn’t love him_.

Stan reeled back for just a second as his chest hurts – it _burns_ right where his heart is, like it just shattered into a thousand glass pieces. He clutches at his heart, the pain stabbing through him that he’s been trying to push away and make excuses for for so long. He looked at his brother again and red flashed in front of his vision – not only did Jimmy hurt him, but he hurt Ford too.

And that’s really why this is the final straw.

“Jimmy,” Stan growled out, his voice sounding scarily unfamiliar to his own ears. Both Jimmy and Ford were staring at him with wide eyes, probably in shock at the deadly tone of Stan’s voice. “Put Ford down. _Now_.”

Stan left no room for argument. Jimmy scoffed as he rolled his eyes, dropping Ford onto his feet. He wanted to take a step over to Ford and see if he was okay – the sight of Ford’s wrist alone was making red flash in front of his vision. He was frozen to the ground though – probably burning a damn hole into the floor, because he could _feel_ the anger and hurt that was radiating off of him. Luckily, Ford was the one to come over to him, six-fingered hands slowly reaching out for his brother.

“…Stanley?” he whispered, eyes wide as dinner plates. “Are you okay?”

Stan he…he just couldn’t form the words. Ford probably thought he was going to cry or something, because he began shaking his head, waving his arms frantically.

“Stanley, really, I-I’m fine. Come on, let’s just go home, we can come back for your stuff—”

“No.”

“…No?” Ford squeaked, and Stan didn’t miss the winning, condescending smirk on Jimmy’s face at this. He _saw_ it now – he saw it before, sure. But before, he’d play it off like Jimmy was just happy he’d get to have him around more. It was like someone had yanked the rug right out from under Stan, because now, every single thing was crystal clear to him. _Fuck!_

“No,” Stan repeatedly dizzily, “I’m not leaving yet. I have to talk to Jimmy first, and then we’re going.”

“Really?” Jimmy smirked in amusement, “You’re leaving, baby doll?”

Being called the nickname that Stan used to love so much made him wince, and his legs would’ve given out if he hadn’t absolutely forced himself to keep standing. His lips felt dry as he reached his hand out for Ford, who grabbed his hand like a lifeline. His twin was shocked as Stan tugged Ford behind himself, defensively standing in front of Ford with his hands balled into fists.

“Yeah,” he growled, not quite able to meet Jimmy’s burning gaze. “I’m leaving once and for all.”

“As if you’ve ever be able been to before,” Jimmy snorted, and the fact that he looked so terribly amused made Stan even angrier.

“This time it’s different,” Stan said darkly, temper bottling up inside of his throat and burning, “Because this time, you messed with my family!”

“This time?” Jimmy glanced at his fingernails, a slight smile gracing his features.  “You didn’t seem to have a problem with me getting’ up in Six Fingers’s business last time.”

“Last time?” Stan breathed, feeling like all the air was knocked out of his stomach as he wheeled around to face Ford. His brother sniffled, shifting desperately as his eyes dropped to the ground.

“I-It was no big deal Stanley, really…he just s-said a couple of things, I-I was going to tell you but you were so happy and I was hoping that—”

“How long ago?” Stan asked faintly, almost hysterically, touching his hand to his forehead dizzily.

“When we all went out to dinner, the-the time you wanted a hamburger b-but Jimmy…he didn’t want you to…” Ford paused, reaching out a hand to touch Stan’s shoulder. “Stanley…I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“No!” Stan hissed, wheeling around to face Ford. “Don’t be sorry! Don’t be sorry for someone trying to take advantage of you! Because I know how it feels and it fucking sucks!”

Stan turned back to Jimmy, shaking with unshed tears, red flashing in front of his vision as he took a step closer to him. He hated the way he was so cautious, the way he was trained not to make a wrong move and do something to upset Jimmy.

“You abused me,” Stan hissed violently, pointing a shaky finger at Jimmy. “You made me think that you cared about me—hell, I thought you loved me!—but I don’t even know why I ever thought that! You made me feel worse than anybody else I’ve ever met!”

“Oh please, I was helping you,” Jimmy snarled, eliciting an angered gasp from Ford. “Look at how different you are from the pathetic guy who bumped into me in the bar.”

“Stanley was never pathetic!” Ford yelled angrily, trying to take a step forward, but held back by Stan’s arm.

“He sure was desperate enough to stay with me,” Jimmy smirked, knowing very well what he had been doing to Stan. He smirked at Stan, making his cheeks heat up with embarrassment and shame. “Why dontcha tell your brother how much you put up from for me? And then tell him _why_. And that’s the exact reason you’re not leaving me.”

Stan didn’t say anything, scared doubt creeping in. He had never been able to leave before, how would he be able to do it now? He shifted anxiously, embarrassed gaze trained on his feet as he felt a familiar prickling sensation behind his eyes. 

“Come here, doll,” Jimmy pointed next to him, shooting him a sharp warning glare. When Stan didn’t move, Jimmy chose to come over to him, squeezing a firm arm around his shoulder. “Now tell Ford that you’re staying.”

 Stan felt his cheeks heat angrily, the anger bubbling up inside of him, the red screen in front of his vision rattling dangerously. He looked down at Jimmy’s hand on his shoulder, remembering feeling that menacing grip so many times over the past ten months. _Ten months_.  

“Because we both know you ain’t going nowhere. You’re worthless, Stan. I’m the only one who could ever deal with you,” Jimmy whispered into his ear, squeezing his shoulder. “But hey, if Six Fingers wants to stick around, I’d be glad to—”

He doesn’t hit Jimmy for himself. No, he knows what it’s like to get hit by your boyfriend. And it feels pretty fucking shitty. So he doesn’t hit him because of the nearly year-long span of torture Jimmy put him through.

He does, however, hit him for messing with his brother.

When Stan’s fist met Jimmy’s face, the blonde let out a startled yelp, clearly not expecting the left hook. He fumbled back, and for the first time, Stan saw a new expression behind those eyes. Shock. Stan was too blinded by his anger to care, taking a step towards Jimmy with his hands balled into fists.  

“You know what Jimmy?” Stan pointed at him, “Screw you! I don’t listen to you, I don’t take orders from you, and I’m not your little doll to take out your shit on! So why don’t you just go and _fuck off_!”

“You’d better remember who you’re talking to, Stanley,” Jimmy growled, taking a step forward and jabbing Stan in the chest. Ford growled, trying to move past Stan’s arm to shove Jimmy away. Stan didn’t let him though – Ford can’t fight this battle for him, and frankly, Stan doesn’t want him to.

“Oh ho ho, don’t remind me,” Stan spat, crossing his arms ruefully. “Don’t remind me I’m talking to the person who’s been lyin’ to me for what, a year? Heh, the one time I hold up a relationship for an extended amount of time, it’s with a brother-harassin’ loonatic!”

“You are _way_ out of line, Stanley!” Jimmy yelled, grabbing Stan by the collar of his jacket.

“Me?! You’ve been out of line since day one!” Stan yelled back, grabbing Jimmy’s jacket with just as much ferocity, “And if you ever think about harassing my family again, you’re gonna fucking regret it! Because guess what? I’m going home, and I’m gonna go eat a hamburger with Ford and Fiddleford – yeah that’s right, _Fiddleford_! – and you’re gonna be somebody else’s problem!”

“You only do what _I_ tell you!” Jimmy yelled, winding back his fist in a flash.

One minute Jimmy’s fist was coming at him, a choked gasp coming from Ford when he realized he wouldn’t be able to stop it in time. But the next minute, nothing happened. Stan slowly opened his eyes that he wasn’t aware he had closed, and then he saw it. His eyes trailed from Jimmy’s shocked face to the fist in Stan’s hand, and it all clicked. Jimmy had swung at him, and he caught it. He stopped it.

He…he stopped it.

Jimmy blinked stupidly, and Stan felt a weight lift off his chest as he let go of Jimmy’s hand, letting it fall at the blonde’s side, pushing away from him. The two of them didn’t say anything for what seemed like a long time before Stan shook his head, turning around and walking towards the door, motioning for Ford to follow.

“Wait, baby doll,” Jimmy gasped, grabbing onto Stan’s wrist desperately. Stan turned around to face him, eyes cold as Jimmy looked around hurriedly for something to say to make Stan stay.

“Do you remember how terrible everything was without me? I took a broken man and I fixed him,” Jimmy said, taking Stan’s face in his hands. “Everything I ever did for you, it was just because I care about you, doll…”

“Don’t call me doll,” Stan gasped dizzily, closing his eyes and leaning into Jimmy’s touch. He closed his eyes, hating the way the he still felt butterflies in his stomach and his cheeks heat up. He wished things could’ve been different – he wished Jimmy could’ve just tried…

But he didn’t. He hurt Ford, and he hurt Stan.

“I love you, Stanley,” Jimmy brushed his nose against Stan’s, whose eyelashes twitched against his cheeks, face looking pained. “That’s why I did any of this. That’s why I saved you, took care of you. It’s because I love you. Don’t leave me, baby doll..”

Stan’s eyes slowly opened, face inches away from Jimmy’s, and he watched in almost a trance as Jimmy leaned in to kiss him.

“No.” Stan grabbed Jimmy by the shoulders, shoving him backwards. He shook his head, unzipping Jimmy’s leather jacket before he dropped it on the floor in front of him.

“…No?” Jimmy blinked incredulously, Stan’s answer like a slap in the face.

“No. I don’t need you to feel like I’m not worthless. I don’t need you trying to change or control me, I don’t need you hurting my brother or myself. I don’t need _you_ , Jimmy.”

Jimmy just kind of stood there, eyebrows furrowed, blinking as he stared at Stan. He probably never thought Stan would figure it out, that he’d be able to leave. But here he was, and Stan was hardly sure if he’d be able to do it either. He wiped his eyes, shooting Jimmy a rueful smile as he put his hand on Ford’s shoulder, nudging him towards the door.

“Ya know, you probably you’ve done whatever you wanted to me, Jimmy. But you messed with my brother – hell, you even messed with Fidds – and that was your mistake. And we’re going home.”

Stan looked at the blonde man, standing dumbly in the center of the room, remembering those green eyes glowing for him. He remembered bumping into Jimmy that first night, he remembered all the love he felt for him. He blinked away a few tears as he gently pushed Ford out of the room, then followed suit, closing the door behind him.

Stan pressed his forehead against the door as it clicked shut, letting out a shaky breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. His heart, it just…it really hurt.

“Stanley…” Ford said softly, hand on Stan’s shoulder, “I’m…I’m so sorry…”

Stan shook his head weakly, moving away from the door and turning to his brother. He opened his mouth to assure him he was fine – that he was better off to be rid of this asshole. Instead, a choked sob left his mouth, and he collapsed against Ford, who wrapped him into a big hug.

The two stood in the hallway, Ford holding his sobbing brother. And even though he had lost his place with Jimmy, Stan knew he was finally on his way home.

 


	9. Most Important

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the final chapter!!!!  
> I'm getting emotional, please read the notes at the end!!  
> (also I replied to some comments on ch. 8 that just needed a response, seriously...thank you guys so much)  
> But here I will say that your comments and your support...they really mean the world to me. Each one touches my heart so much, and I'm so thankful to hear from such amazing people.  
> It's been a fun ride!!! Here we go!!

“Stanley?” Ford asked softly, cracking open the door to his brother’s room. The smell of smoke hit his nose, and he had to peer through the darkness to see his brother’s form in the bed. He was still on his side, facing the wall, and Ford felt like someone had kicked him in the chest. “…How’s it going?”

Stan responded with a grunt, still exactly where he had been for the past…Ford couldn’t even remember how long. Stan was laying in bed, his room dark and his stuff still in the duffel bag he used while he was staying at Jimmy’s. And as usual, Ford’s heart completely twisted. He hated seeing Stan so sad – so depressed. He had foolishly thought that when Jimmy and Stan broke up, everything would instantly go back to normal. But unfortunately, that’s not how things worked. And Ford completely understood that – Stan had his poor heart shattered, and it was clear that he was hurting beyond comprehension.

“Do you need anything?” Ford asked gently, slowly walking into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. His brother rubbed at his eyes, grumbling, as he turned onto his back to look at Ford through glassy eyes.

“Nah. I’m fine,” he sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. He winced when he touched the healing bruise around his left eye, letting out a miserable sigh as he did so. Before Ford could ask him if he wants some more ice (melting ice packs are littered throughout the room from Stan’s different injuries), Stan beat him to it, “How’s your wrist?”

“My wrist?”

“The one that J—” he paused, face contorting as if saying Jimmy’s name was too painful, “…that got all twisted.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Ford assured him, extending his hand for Stan to see. Sure, it still stung a little, but it was nothing too bad. He couldn’t really believe that, here Stan was, lying in bed and hurting so bad, and he was asking Ford how his little wrist injury was. Then again, it was so totally Stanley that made Ford’s heart hurt. Because really, the pain that Ford was feeling all came from Stan’s hurting, and it wasn’t just from their sibling bond. It was because seeing Stan like this was tearing him up, and he couldn’t help but blame himself. If he had been a good brother…if he hadn’t let this happen to Stan…then maybe he wouldn’t be on the verge of tears in bed right now. He had always prided himself on being close with his brother – always prided himself on knowing who Stan was as a person. And yet he didn’t notice the signs – no, he noticed them, he just chose to ignore them—

“Ford,” Stan said gruffly, lips a tight line as he propped himself up on his elbows, “Can ya knock it off?”

“Knock what off?”

“You look like you’re gonna cry,” Stan grunted, trying so hard to keep his face stony as his watery eyes scanned over Ford’s face. “I know what’s goin’ on in that big head of yours. You’re blaming yourself.”

“How can I not?” Ford sighed, sitting Indian-style on the bed as his head dropped into his hands, “I did nothing to stop you from falling for a guy who I had misgivings about right from the start.”

“You really think I would’ve listened?” Stan raised an eyebrow, frown set on his features as he sat up further. “Ford, I—”

“I should’ve been there for you,” Ford muttered into his hands, guilt stabbing at his very being. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, and Ford just couldn’t help but feel so devastatingly guilty. He didn’t expect Stan to reply – how could he when Ford was so right? He was nearly ready to get up and give him some space when Stan clasped a big hand on his shoulder, expressive eyes staring at Ford as he said softly, “You are, Ford. Always have been. None of this is your fault…and I’m trying to feel better…but…everything just hurts so bad…”

“You can take all the time you want to feel better,” Ford instantly replied, picking up an ice pack and handing it to Stan. Stan gingerly placed it on his eye, hissing a bit as he did so, and the two fell into silence again. Stan hadn’t been much for talking as of recent– Ford had been noticing a lot of things that made Stanley…well… _Stanley_ …had been absent lately, and his switching from never being able to shut up to being quiet was the biggest one.

“Is…is it bad that I miss him?” Stan whispered, staring down at his hands. Ford looked over at him in surprise, not expecting to hear those soft words. Stan was never one with his emotions, and hearing something so open and soft caught Ford off guard. He didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, heart panging as he finally shook his head, saying softly, “No. It’s normal, Stanley. You loved him.”

“…Yeah, I did,” Stan sighed, looking miserable as he wiped at his eyes again. “I know he didn’t ever care about me and all that, but…I just can’t help but missing him. I kinda created this Jimmy in my mind…I…I really worked to convince myself he cared, and I guess a part of me is still programmed to think so.”

“That’s okay,” Ford said gently, lightly tapping near his bruised eye. “You’re healing, Stan. That’s all there is to it.”

Stan nodded, but a couple of tears flittered down his cheeks, causing Ford’s stomach to twist, unable to say anything because he just wasn’t sure what he can say to make this better.

“Stanford…” Stan’s watery eyes met his, “I’m just…I’m scared I’m never going to feel okay again.”

There _was_ nothing he could say to make this better. So, Ford wrapped him in a hug, pulling him close as he let out a shuddering sigh. He knew Stan was hurting after what he had gone through. Recovering may just be harder than actually freeing him…

The door opened a crack, Fiddleford’s head poking in through the doorway. His eyes met Ford’s, and the two exchanged a sad look at Stan’s state in front of them. Fiddleford slowly walked in the room, sitting on the other side of Stan as he set a tray down next to him. The two of them had been trying to get Stan to eat – not just a couple of crackers or a granola bar or something – to really _eat_. Ford didn’t know _what_ Jimmy could’ve said to Stan, but whatever it was, it had Stan majorly insecure about his weight.

“You feelin’ alright?” Fiddleford asked gently, patting Stan’s back. Stan sniffled, shaking his head as he slowly released Ford from the hug. He looked between the two of them, looking a bit conflicted as he finally let out a sigh, slumping forward a bit, “Why…why do you two put up with me? I…I’m not worth it…”

“You hush,” Fiddleford assured him, setting the tray of food in Stan’s lap, “You mean the world to me an’ Ford. Ain’t nobody ever gonna convince us or you otherwise.”

“Yeah,” Ford agreed, offering Stan a smile, “We’re not going anywhere, and we’re going to get through this together.”

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Stan smiled, softly thanking them both before he reluctantly began eating. Ford knew it was going to be a long road to recovery – but they would walk it as a team.

And as time went, it went to prove - Stan’s recovery…it wasn’t easy. Who knew that getting Stan away from Jimmy was half the battle? The second half was getting Stanley Pines back to being Stanley Pines again. The months passed, and Ford and Fiddleford had to work very carefully to get Stan back to where he was before. They had to give him space, yet be there when he needed them. More in the beginning, they were floundering, unsure whether they should let Stan keep to himself or to be right there comforting him. Usually, though, they had a pinpoint accuracy on when Stan needed them, and were always there.

They were there when Stan was trying his damnedest not to cry, but tears were still rolling down his cheeks anyways. They were there when Stan heard a motorcycle whirl by and nearly had a heart attack. They were there, bringing Stan food every day as he tried his hardest to watch the weight that he wasn’t even putting on. They were _there_ for Stan, and that was what he needed to get through this. He needed his brother making him smile, Fiddleford making him feel comfortable, and the shack serving as his home. Maybe one of the reasons he felt so terrible while he was moved out was because he wasn’t here – he wasn’t home.

The bruise around Stan’s eye healed, and some of the wounds on the rest of his body gave way to scars. Scars that Stan would have to be reminded of every time he looked in the mirror, but scars that he didn’t have to hide underneath a leather jacket anymore. Around the time the bruise healed was when they finally got him out of the darkness of his room, and Stan fell back in love with his yellow recliner chair and all its glory.

Stan not talking was something that Ford never thought he would miss until it was actually gone. He’s missed that loud voice booming throughout the shack for too long now, and it takes some of his best jokes and the most outrageous TV shows to get Stan back saying his sarcastic remarks again. When he walked in on Ford and Fidds making out with Ford’s tie around Fiddleford’s head, however, was when the booming laughter came back.

Stan also crept around the shack, as if he was constantly tip-toeing around someone. Over time, when he realized he was safe, was he back to thundering through the room, shouting to Ford that he was going to try and make breakfast as he pulled a chair up and began shoving cereal boxes off the top shelf. Soon enough, by the end of the day, Ford, Stan, and Fidds were all sitting in the living room, laughing loudly and talking endlessly just like they had before Stan had ever met Jimmy.

But Ford also knew that recovery wasn’t that easy. Stan would have days where he’d be so sad, so forlorn – sometimes it would be anniversary dates, sometimes it would just be a day he felt particularly sad. His scars caused him great misery just looking at them, and he constantly was feeling the phantom pain and remembering all the things Jimmy would say to him. Ford didn’t actually see Stan ever eat a hamburger until _years_ after Jimmy was out of the picture, it took him even more years to date again, and every time Stan heard a motorcycle engine he got this wild, hunted look in his eyes. Stan would always be haunted by what happened, always have terrible memories of those ten months. And the good memories of Jimmy? Those just hurt him more.

But Stan was Stan again, and he recovered with the help of the people who loved him.

 

* * *

 

30 YEARS LATER

* * *

 

 

“Kids!!!”

Stan practically kicked open the front door of the Mystery Shack, running down the steps and up the walkway until he went slamming backwards. Finally, the year couldn’t seem to go by fast enough for the summer to roll around! He and Ford had been counting down the days until the twins came back, and here they were! Stan was tackled practically to the ground, Dipper and Mabel both talking a mile a minute as they squeezed Stan into a back-breaking hug.

“Grunkle Stan!! We missed you so much!! Since the last time we talked, I got my braces off!! Look, look, and my hair is shorter and I wore my special ‘Welcome Back’ sweater and I made you a matching one and—!”

“Grunkle Stan, I have _so_ much to tell you did you hear about the new conspiracy floating around about all the gnomes?? I’ll tell you all about it when we get inside, and I took a date to the spring dance and I took your advice and didn’t throw up on her shoes and—!”

“Whoa, whoa! Slow down, you gremlins!” Stan laughed, pulling them both in for some of his affectionate noogying. “What the heck did either of you just say?”

The twins paused before looking at each other, matching grins on their face as they both laugh, “We said that we missed you!”

The three of them laughed together, Stan feeling happy and relieved to have the kids back as he hugged them close again. He wasn’t exactly an affectionate guy, but he just couldn’t help himself! After another year of weekend video chats, it was nice to have the kids in the flesh again, and having them right here where he knew they were okay, well, it put his old nerves at ease.

“Grunkle Ford!!” Ford was tackled at where he stood in the doorway, Stan laughing as he was knocked backwards onto his butt. The twins began chattering nonstop to Ford, who looked ridiculously happy to see them but clueless as to what in the world they were both saying as they talked about a mile a minute.

“Now the family is back together for our _third_ consecutive summer in Gravity Falls!” Mabel yelled, grabbing Stan by the hand and yanking him over to where Dipper and Ford were. She plopped a camera into Stan’s hand, and by now he knew the drill. Every day on the first day of summer, Stan had to take a picture of the whole family together. The comparisons always made his eyes a little misty – these kids were growing up pretty fast. They were fourteen now – would be turning fifteen this summer – and already starting to look so grown up.

“Ah, wait!” Mabel said as Stan held out the camera, “We can have Fiddsy take the picture!”

Fiddleford had just walked out of the shack, and everyone laughed at the nickname. Fiddleford had never been opposed to it, and it always made Stan and Ford giggle about it to no ends. Mabel had been calling him that since, what, the very first time she had spent the summer there? Dipper and Mabel had come down with their parents were they were like, three, and Mabel instantly took to calling Ford’s boyfriend ‘Fiddsy.’ Damn, Ford and Fidds have been together a long time…

“Heya kids!” Fidds greeted, ruffling both of their hair as Stan tossed him the camera. He grinned, snapping a picture of the family before handing the camera back to Mabel.

“Ohmygosh, did you guys set up the attic for us again?” Mabel gasped excitedly, never ceasing to be excited over _everything_. “Are all my old moldy spots okay?”

“Yeah, we spent all morning settin’ it up!” Stan shoved down the bill of Dipper’s hat over his eyes playfully, “And we left all the moldy spots, as if we’d be able to get rid of ‘em for long anyways.”

Mabel squealed, and she and Dipper went to rush inside the shack. They were stopped, however, by Ford, who was smiling as he put a hand on each of their backs. “Before you two get situated, how about you go look out back?”

“Eh?” Stan raised an eyebrow at Ford, who seemed to be smiling a bit too smugly. He and the kids both asked in unison, “What’s out back?”

“Well, while me and Stan were setting up the attic, Fiddleford might’ve taken to setting something else up…” Ford led everyone to the back door, stepping outside and holding it open for everyone. Stan and the kids looked outside – and there it was. The first family party of the summer – the backyard had balloons, food, games, and all of the kid’s favorite stuff (and the telltale red cooler that Stan always had stuffed to the brim with the best booze, which wasn’t for the kids, of course, but something he could definitely indulge in).

“Ah Fiddleford, you sure know how to set up a party!” Stan laughed, dragging Fidds in for a noogie, who playfully swatted him away.

“Can’t argue with ya there,” he grinned, the three men standing in the doorway as the kids rushed cheering into the backyard.  They walked outside, where the kids were in a huge group hug with Soos and Wendy, two more people who had somehow wormed their way into Stan’s heart. When they saw Stan, they opened their arms, and he huffed fondly before letting himself be dragged into the hug.

“Mr. Pines, do you like the party? I’m DJing r-r-riiight!” Soos wrapped a big arm around him, eyes lighting up at the sight of Stan. Stan was very well aware that Soos saw him as a father – and it was something that he’d never admit made his heart warm to no end. He never got to be a dad – it just wasn’t in the fates for him to have kids. He never really thought he’d ever get the chance, but here he was, with a kid who looked up to him like a son would a father. And in all honesty, when the word ‘son’ comes to his mind, he instantly thinks of Soos. Not that he’d ever say that out loud – he’s not good with the sappy things. Although he may have blubbered something about it in the hospital a few months ago, when he found out Soos named his son ‘Stanley…’

“I just hope the dance floor is ready for me,” Stan grinned, everyone around him laughing.

“I just hope you don’t break a hip, old man,” Wendy laughed teasingly, nudging him in the arm. He fondly nudged her back with an eye roll – this kid has been a pain in his ass ever since he offered her a job so her dad wouldn’t send her off to some lumberjack summer camp. He’s had to kick the crap out of too many asshole guys to count – he always let her do her thing, but when she needed him, he was there.

And Dipper and Mabel…those two kids were two of the most important things in his life. He’d always known them when they were little – even when they were babies, he’d been there, and he’d always loved those two little gremlins. After their first summer in Gravity Falls, he’d been as thick as thieves with them, talking every weekend, sending letters and getting them back just as quick. He may have thought he was worthless before…but when he looked at those kids, he knew that he meant something to them, and that was really what mattered. As if she knew what he was thinking, Mabel turned and met his eyes, smiling so warmly as she waved at him. He smirked and waved back, and his little girl (well, she was fourteen now, but she’d always be little to _him_ ) ran over and gave him a quick hug.

“Are you coming to dance, Grunkle Stan?” she asked excitedly, yanking him by the arm.

“You know it, pumpkin,” he grinned at her, knowing he’d probably regret it as he added, “And…maybe we can convince Dipper to do some karaoke with us later.”

The shriek she let out made his hearing aid temporarily go out, and he couldn’t help but laugh as she skittered away, jumping right back onto the dance floor.

“Everyone looks so happy,” Ford smiled, walking over and standing next to Stan.

“Yeah,” he sighed warmly, “It’s good to have everyone back.” He glanced at his brother, nudging him as he added, “I’m still happy I got you back, too.”

“I take it you’re referencing my time in the portal that we built?”

“Don’t even bring it up,” Stan muttered. Memories of his ‘Mystery Trio’ days still cause a chill to go up his spine. He thought that some of the other things that happened to him were bad? Having his brother get kicked into a portal by a chaotic triangle was a hundred times worse than anything.

“I was only in there for a year,” Ford offered lightly, but Stan still glared at the memory, not wanting to think about it. It may have only been one year, but it felt like thirty to him. Ford was pushed in about five years after Stan and Jimmy had broken up. They managed to save Ford after only a year, and then life resumed in Gravity Falls – the Mystery Trio back in action. Stan offered a smile, “Yeah well, me and Fidds saved your ass, didn’t we?”

“You did,” Ford agreed fondly, nudging Stan as he added, “But you couldn’t have done it without the guy who gave you his portal gun…”

Ford was right – it probably would’ve taken him and Fidds _years_ to get Ford back if it hadn’t been for bumping into Sanchez. The guy had a portal gun, Stan needed a portal. Before either could say anything more, Stan’s phone buzzed, and he looked down at it. The kids insisted a couple years back that he get one of those touch-screen phones – these new phones always piss him the hell off, because his fingers are too blocky for the screen and he still isn’t even exactly sure what texting is. And sure enough, he’s gotten a text from Rick, saying he was on his way over and bringing the booze.

Stan smirked warmly and typed a response, then walked over to the punch bowl with Ford, the music pulsing in his ears as he got them something to drink. The two turned around, both looking at the crowd in front of him. Soos, Wendy, Dipper, and Mabel all dancing and talking, looking happy and like there’s no place they’d rather be than right here, with him.

He could still clearly hear those cold, sharp words in his head, ‘ _You’re worthless, and you’d be nothing without me_.’ But he knew now that Jimmy _wrong_. He was doing much better in life after he recognized that Jimmy was abusive, that he didn’t need him. He had always feared that no one would ever love him – well, here he was, surrounded with the best family that he could’ve ever asked for. He had a successful business, he had his family, and he had all the love he was looking for.

He could faintly hear a motorcycle whirl by in the distance, and the sound didn’t make him wince with pain anymore, didn’t make him want to hide. He looked from the kids to Fidds to Ford, who grinned happily at him as he playfully punched Stan's arm.

He wasn’t worthless. Because if these people loved him, then he was the luckiest, richest person in the world.

“Man, is it good to be home,” Stan sighed happily, clinking his cup against Ford’s as they raced to meet everyone on the dance floor.

THE END  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are!!!  
> *You can take the Rick and Stan interaction as romantic or platonic - I decided to leave it up to you!! (personally I appreciate it hahah)  
> *In this au, Ford only got sent through the portal for a year, and Stan, Fidds, and Rick saved him quickly with Rick's portal gun (so Stan gets to live a happy life with his bro being a part of it)  
> *And so, I'd just like to thank each and every one of you for giving my fic a chance, for reading it and commenting, bookmarking, or leaving kudos. I've read every single one of your comments, I smile so big whenever I get a kudos - having this story and having all of your feedback has just been an amazing experience. Thank you all so much!! (Shoutout to Skrellogs for always leaving such fabulous comments)  
> *If anybody is in an abusive relationship, please know there are people out there who love you and would gladly help you <3  
> *If you ever want to hmu on tumblr, my username is the same as this one (dippsydaisy)  
> *And hey, maybe I'll decide to do a Mystery Trio sequel in the future! But until then, I know we'll meet again some sunny day :)


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